In Dreams
by nessie6
Summary: On Hiatus.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer-I don't anything that sounds familiar. X-Men, Brotherhood, New Mutants, Acolytes, etc.  
  
Summary- A mutant with the ability to make any mutant's power go out of control where it can physically hurt them, and the power to hurt or even possibly kill them in their dreams is lurking around Bayville. Beware Bayville mutants. WARNING-Some character death. R&R  
  
Chapter One- News  
  
"Three teenagers, identified as mutants, were found dead in their bedrooms early Monday morning," said the reporter on the television in a dramatic voice.  
  
"All victims were male. Autopsies stated that the mutants died from lack of blood, but yet there was no sign from where the blood loss came from. This may be yet another threat of mutant menac-"  
  
With a sigh Professor Charles Xavier clicked off the TV with the remote. Everything on the televisions was the same. Mutant menace. Always tossing the blame on them. If only they could possibly understand!  
  
"Professor?" asked a timid voice in at the doorway. He sighed again. He turned his wheelchair toward the doorway.  
  
"Yes, Kitty?" he asked wearily.  
  
"How," she said slowly and softly, "how can they, like, possibly die of lack of blood if they don't, like, know how they lost it?"  
  
"I don't know, Kitty," he sighed. "But I do want to look into it. It seems odd. The story was that the three of them were very close friends and they stayed at one's house. In the morning, the sister found them. . .dead."  
  
"Wow," she said softly.  
  
"Breakfast will be ready, Kitty, I suggest you go to the kitchen before Kurt eats all the food."  
  
"Yes, Professor."  
  
"Thank you, Kitty."  
  
She shut the door behind her.  
  
* * *  
  
"Dude, pass the syrup"  
  
"Kurt! I wanted the blueberry pancakes!"  
  
"Will ya get yoah fingers outta mah breakfast!"  
  
"ELF! DON'T touch my bacon!"  
  
"Mr. Logan! I didn't touch any of your bacon, I swear!"  
  
"Right, bub, I believe ya."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Ever heard of sarcasm, elf?"  
  
"Hey did, you, like, hear the news this morning?" asked Kitty as she sat down in her usual seat.  
  
"Vhy? Vhat happened?" asked Kurt just before he stuffed a sausage in his mouth.  
  
"Like, three mutants, like, died." she said.  
  
"Really? How?" asked Evan who had just finished his breakfast and was already strapping on his helmet.  
  
"Later," a voice from the doorway said sternly. The professor wheeled his way in.  
  
"I can't let you go to school with that over your heads," he exclaimed. "It would distract you too much. Maybe after dinner."  
  
"Aw, come on Professor!"  
  
"But Professor!"  
  
"We won't be distracted, Prof!"  
  
"No," he said sternly. "You need to get to school now or you'll all be late."  
  
Muttering, they reluctantly got up from their chairs and went out of the kitchen.  
  
"What's this about, Chuck?" growled Wolverine.  
  
"In my office, Logan" he sighed. He then sent out a psychic message out to Storm and Beast to do the same, as they weren't in the kitchen.  
  
* * *  
  
"So what do think about this whole situation, Charles?" asked Ororo.  
  
"I-don't know," he said wearily. "But it does seem suspicious. I am going to have to check Cerebro to know more."  
  
"So you think this is the work of a mutant?" asked Hank McCoy just above a whisper.  
  
"I do not know, Hank," the professor sighed. 'I am doing quite a lot of sighing this morning. How much have I? Four? Five times?' he thought with some amusement.  
  
"Well, then why do you want to check Cerebro, Chuck?" asked Logan.  
  
"I'll admit that I'm not too sure. But the way they died seems suspicious. There is a possibility that it is a mutant."  
  
"Well, then, get going, Charles!" Xavier sighed again.  
  
"That will have to wait until later, Logan," he said. "Right now, I am rather ravenous."  
  
Without another word he wheeled out of his office.  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Note- So, how did you like it so far? Constructive criticism is welcome. Be nice though. R&R! 


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer- Don't own anything that sounds familiar.  
  
Summary- Well now the X-Men get to learn about those teens that died, and we get to learn more about how they died. Enjoy! Chapters will get better, I promise. R&R!  
  
Author's Note- I picture Evolution being around 1999-2002 so let's say it's 2002.  
  
Chapter Two- Some Information  
  
The adults were the last ones to stop eating. All the others kept throwing glances at the professor, who seemed to be the one taking the most time.  
  
At last, the professor set down his fork and knife.  
  
"New Recruits, I want you clean up your plates and go down to the library or someplace quiet to do your homework," he said.  
  
Bobby smirked and tilted back on his chair. "I don't have any."  
  
The Professor raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked.  
  
Bobby nodded his head. The Professor just kept on staring at him.  
  
Bobby quickly started fidgeting uncomfortably. "Umm, umm, umm"  
  
"I suggest you clean your plate and do your homework, Bobby. I'm a telepath, you can't get out of things that easily."  
  
"Yessir," he muttered, looking at his plate. He turned to the older students.  
  
"X-Men, meet me in my office in ten minutes," he said and backed his wheel chair away from the table and left. The New Recruits grumbled and followed him out of the kitchen.  
  
"So, what do you think about this news?" asked Jean, who was drying dishes. Scott went to help her.  
  
"I don't know," he said taking the dry dish from her and putting it in one of the cabinets.  
  
"It's horrible," whispered Kitty. "Three teenage mutant boys died. It was, like, really sad."  
  
"How do ya know this?" asked Rogue who blew a strand of her white bangs irritably out of her face. It just went back to the exact same spot as before.  
  
"I saw it when I, like, right before breakfast," she said. "The Professor just turned it off when I asked him."  
  
"So, tell us what ya know," urged the native Mississippian. "But that is all I know," sighed Kitty.  
  
"We better get going to the office soon," interrupted Jean who was drying the last glass, "The Professor is expecting us."  
  
Scott took the glass out of her hand and set it gently on the counter. Putting his arm around Jean's shoulders, he quietly led the way out. The others quickly followed them.  
  
* * *  
  
They were all gathered outside the door and just as Kurt was about to knock on the door they heard the Professor say, "Come in."  
  
"Wish you wouldn't do that, Prof," muttered Evan as he sprawled himself on the right corner of the sofa.  
  
"My apologies, Evan," the Professor gave him a small smile.  
  
"Move ovah, ya lump," snapped Rogue as she shoved Evan's legs off the couch. Evan just gave her an annoyed look.  
  
"X-Men, as you might of heard today," the Professor began, "is that three mutants died Monday. I found this highly suspicious so I looked into it.  
  
"I have discovered on Cerebro, that there was a strange sort of power at around the same area the boys lived. It didn't give me much, but it is a start."  
  
"So, what kind of powers are we dealing with?" asked Scott eagerly. Maybe they could recruit this mutant?  
  
"Dangerous ones," the Professor explained. "This mutant seems to have a sort of telepathy, but they use it in a whole different way. It seems they can enter the sleep of a mutant. This is all I know. The victims actually lived roughly ten miles from here, and I do not feel entirely safe with that information."  
  
"Do you have any information, Professor?" asked Jean, keen to learn more.  
  
He sighed. "I have copied files I have found on the young mutants. I even have their powers."  
  
He nodded to Beast and the blue, hairy, mutant genius handed Scott a manilla folder.  
  
Scott took the folder and looked at the papers inside. Jean was reading over his shoulder and Kurt teleported on the back of the couch and peered at it.  
  
Inside it said:  
  
Name: Jeremy Michael Herring  
  
Parents: Keith, 50 and Diane, 47, Herring  
  
Siblings: Danielle Herring, 12  
  
Eye: Hazel  
  
Hair: Brown  
  
Height: 5' 11" (Five-foot eleven inches)  
  
Ethnicity: Caucasian  
  
Date of Birth: January 13, 1986  
  
Date of Death: May 17, 2002  
  
With Jeremy Herring's file came a picture of him alive, and a picture of his corpse. Jeremy had a well-built frame (he probably played football). The dead picture of him showed that his skin had turned blue.  
  
Scott took Jeremy's file and passed it to Kitty and Rogue. He looked at the next one.  
  
Name: Chet Adam Dobson  
  
Parents: James, 49 and Theresa, 50, Dobson  
  
Siblings: Bryn, 19 and Matthew, 20, Dobson  
  
Eye: Brown  
  
Hair: Blonde  
  
Height: 6' 2" (Six-foot two inches)  
  
Ethnicity: Caucasian  
  
Date of Birth: April 15, 1986  
  
Date of Death: May 17, 2002  
  
He too, was good looking, even more so that Jeremy Herring, although in the school picture there seemed to be a scar just above his eye. In the second picture, he was also blue. They looked at the last one, passing this one to Rogue and Kitty.  
  
Name: Raymond James Dunburg  
  
Parents: Harry, 47 and Mary, 47, Dunburg  
  
Siblings: John, 18, and Christopher, 13, Dunburg  
  
Eye: Brown  
  
Hair: Dark brown  
  
Height: 6' 0" (Six-foot)  
  
Ethnicity: African-American  
  
Date of Birth: October 11, 1985  
  
Date of Death: May 17, 2002  
  
He looked happy in his picture too. He was also blue in the other picture.  
  
"Vhat vere their powers?" asked Kurt sadly after looking at the files and pictures.  
  
"Mr. Herring here," exclaimed Beast, "Seemed to be have invisiblily power. His sister said so after we questioned her."  
  
"You questioned her?" asked Jean incredulously.  
  
"We told her that we think mutants are a target to this, and that we needed information to avoid things like this," said Storm gently.  
  
"The others, Teach?" said Evan pointedly.  
  
"Mr. Dobson," Beast sighed, "had the ability to control water. It was at his house that they died at. And Mr. Dunburg could control others' movements. His brother claimed he saw him make squirrels tap-dance."  
  
"That's so sad," said Kitty quietly. "They were only, like, sixteen."  
  
"Yes, and let's hope this doesn't happen again, or at least anytime soon," said the Professor, and he gave them a very pointed look. "Now, that's all we have. If we learn more we will tell you. If this does happen again, we might have to inform the Brotherhood, so they are aware that they might be in danger."  
  
Evan snorted, "Who cares? No one's going to miss Pietro anyways. Everybody hates him."  
  
"And Alvers," Scott added, Kitty scowled at him.  
  
"You are quite wrong, boys," said the Professor sternly, "Wanda Maximoff cares very deeply for her brother, even before her memory was fixed. She only thought she hated him. And be careful what you say about Lance, Scott, some people do like him." He looked at Kitty.  
  
"I think you should do what you normally do on Friday nights," Storm added, "Go to the movies, the mall, but just remember that curfew is at 11:00."  
  
They all nodded and got up to go to the door and just as Scott put his hand on the knob, Logan growled, "And tell Bobby he's got extra Danger Room sessions for eavesdropping."  
  
And Scott opened the door to find a very nervous looking Bobby, a.k.a Iceman, standing just outside of the doorway.  
  
"Uhh," he said hesitantly, "Hi, guys."  
  
* * *  
  
A/N: Hey, so what do you think about this chapter? Next one will be up soon! R&R! 


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer- I do not own anything that sounds familiar.  
  
Summary- Well, this chapter has only an OC in it. But if I had this dream I'd be scared spitless. Chapter might be a bit disturbing. R&R. Enjoy!  
  
Author's Note- Okay since ff.net hasn't put in any of the bold or italics I put in, any onomatopoeia in this chapter should be italicized.  
  
Chapter Three  
  
'Running . . . running . . . keep running . . . must keep running . . .'  
  
A figure stops, hands on her knees, gasping for air.  
  
'No. . . can't stop now. . . must keep running. . .'  
  
She runs. The corridor is narrow and dark. The walls were stone and there seemed to be precipitation running down the walls.  
  
Drip! Drip!  
  
It's driving her insane. Every drip-drop of water she hears echoes through the corridor.  
  
She stops again. Her hair is damp with sweat and perspiration forms neatly on her brow. Brown eyes are wide with fear. . .  
  
Did she lose him? Oh God, she couldn't go on! So tired. . .  
  
She looks around. . .  
  
She lost him.  
  
Breathing a sigh of relief she leans against one of the damp walls and slides down. She puts her face in her hands and sobs.  
  
Her heart's thumping . . .It's pounding in her temples . . . She could feel the heat rise to her neck, her ears . . .her face . . .  
  
'Stop! Stop! You'll give me away!'  
  
'Stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. . .Stop! Sto-'  
  
Footsteps.  
  
At first they're dull, and then they grow louder. Louder. They sound calm . . .Mocking.  
  
They footsteps were mocking her!  
  
With another sob she starts to crawl, and gradually, slowly, she stands on her feet and tries to run. Her feet felt like lead. It took her awhile to have control of her legs.  
  
She's running down the corridor now; she stops at a forked passage. She takes the right. Her eyes are half-blinded by tears.  
  
'Please don't let him find me! Please don't let him find me!'  
  
She could still hear the footsteps.  
  
"Clara. . ." drawled a voice. It sent chills down her spine.  
  
"Miss Oberman. . .come out. . .I won't hurt you," she could hear the laughter in his voice. He's laughing at her terror. . .  
  
"Clara!" it's her father's voice.  
  
'Daddy!' she automatically things, but she knew it wasn't her father. That voice held no love. But . . . It sounded trusting, she should trust that voice.  
  
But she won't. She doesn't want to. That's not her father!  
  
"Clara? It's Daddy . . . don't be afraid, I'm here!"  
  
'Daddy? Oh, God, Daddy, help me!'  
  
But she continues to run. It's him. The monster. How dare he use Daddy?!  
  
'No! No! Oh, God, please! No, no . . .'  
  
She had reached a dead end.  
  
She lets out a choked sob. 'It's over. It's all over . . ."  
  
'Why can't I wake up? Oh, please let me wake up!'  
  
"Clara?" it's the monster. He's back to his original voice.  
  
"Naughty, naughty girl," it drawls, "Tsk . . .tsk . . . We'll have to teach you a lesson, won't we?" he laughs. She flinches violently.  
  
'Please, oh God, please! I want to wake up! Oh, God, just let me wake up!'  
  
A figure dressed in a black cloak turns the corner. His hood is up. The air chills . . .  
  
Water vapor forms from her mouth.  
  
He's still laughing, and there's nothing but an eerie darkness under that hood.  
  
She chokes back another sob as she feels her legs slow down again. The weight pulls her down to her knees. Again she puts her face in her hands and broke down in pitiful sobs.  
  
"I thought you loved mazes, Clara!" it says in a mock-hurt voice. "That's why I made your dreams a maze! I'd thought it'd make you enjoy your dream a bit more!  
  
"Clara," he drawls, "Clara . My, my you won't enjoy mazes anymore when you wake, will you, Clara?"  
  
She's still sobbing, but her eyes could not shed any more tears. She had used them all.  
  
"Clara! You didn't answer me! Tut, tut." he laughs. "Now answer me, Clara, dear."  
  
She nods.  
  
"Oh? You won't like them anymore? But you were so good with them! You were the best! You were the best because you have navigational powers."  
  
He chuckles, "My, my, your powers won't help you now, will they, Clara?"  
  
The tears started to leak out of her eyes again.  
  
"Remember your brother, Clara?" he taunts. "Remember Bryon? It would break your mother and father's poor hearts to discover their baby dead. Too bad Bryon died."  
  
"Remember how he died, Clara?" he says as if this were the funniest thing in the world. "Remember how dear Bryon died? He died in a car accident, didn't he, Clara?"  
  
She couldn't control her breathing anymore; the sobs were choking her. Her throat ached so badly that it was unbearable.  
  
"He was only sixteen, wasn't he, Clara?" he teases. "Poor lad just got his driver's license. Fool. They're always fools on that day, aren't they Clara?"  
  
He waits for an answer. When she doesn't he just goes on.  
  
"Yes, he and a couple of his close friends decided to go driving at seventy- five miles per hour, after they had a few . beverages. You were ten at the time, weren't you, Clara?" He sneers. "The four friends that were with him, they were like brothers to you, weren't they Clara? Yes, they were. What were their names? Matt, Steve, Joel, and Jack? Three of them died."  
  
"Matt? He was sticking his head out of the back window. He got decapitated didn't he, Clara? Hit the sign next to the road when they hit that truck. Hit it so hard it knocked his head off. Steve? He flew through the windshield and broke his neck. Crushed his skull too when he went through the windshield. Joel? He was crushed. He bled to death, slowly, and painfully. And Jack? His neck snapped back, breaking it, causing him to loose the use of his body from the waist down. He cracked his ribs in half, punctured his lungs and broke his arms, shoulders, and cracked his skull. He has scars. He has so many scars. He wishes he were dead, just like his best friends. It's a wonder he lived. A miracle, even. He can't ever sleep with a woman. He always wanted to. He wanted to play hockey professionally, and have a wife and kids. He actually wanted five kids. Your brother, Bryon?" at this he snickered, "The metal pole that was sticking out of the trunk of the pick up he rammed into? It went right through his chest."  
  
She's sobbing so hard now. He's tormenting her. He's reminding her and torturing her. Jack, the only brother she has left now, he wants to die. He wants to be with his friends, his brothers.  
  
'Oh, God, I'm going to die!'  
  
'Oh, God, Jack! You're going to be alone! You're going to loose your sister! You have real brothers, Pat and Owen. You have a real sister, Tracy, and you have a step-brother Scot, and a step-sister Christine. But your going to loose your best friend's sister! Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry!'  
  
"You won't like mazes and cars when you wake up, will you, Clara?" he sneered. "Oh, wait, I forgot. Silly me, you won't be waking up."  
  
Suddenly, she couldn't breath. She could feel her lungs filling up.  
  
'I can't breath! I can't breath!'  
  
She feels something warm ooze out of the corners of her mouth. It tastes like blood.  
  
It's her blood.  
  
She starts to choke. It feels as if her eyes are going to pop out, but she knows they won't. There was no air coming down her windpipe and into her lungs. If she tried to breath, she'd just bring the blood back down.  
  
Dimly, she could hear him laughing as black spots formed in her vision. She slowly starts to loose consciousness.  
  
"Bye, Bye Clara!" she hears him cackle.  
  
And she knew no more.  
  
* * *  
  
A/N- So, how do you like this one? This is actually my favorite so far, because well, I think it's better. R&R!  
  
Snitter in Rivendell- Ah! Thanks for your reviews! Yeah, I thought that'd be in-character with Bobby. Glad you liked it. I hope you like this chapter.  
  
Mannielf18- Thanks for your review! I don't think anyone will die for awhile yet, but I don't 'think' you have to worry about Kurt. I already got two of the people I'm making kick-the-bucket.  
  
Flame31-Thanks for reviewing, I liked that site. I really hope Ascension II wasn't the last episode. That was one of the best episodes I've seen. 


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer- I own none of the things within. Except for this story's evil guy. Just none of the characters. and you got the idea.  
  
Summary- Oh no! Another mutant has died, and it is inevitable that he finds out about the X-Men, Brotherhood, and Acolytes. But he doesn't want to kill them.yet. MWAHAHA! R&R  
  
Author's Note- Typo in chapter two has been fixed. Thanks Mannielf18! Oh, and Apocalypse didn't happen. This is AU. Evan's with the X-Men, not the Morlocks (Or he hasn't joined them yet), and Wanda has her fake memories. Okay, so some chapters have chapter titles in here and some don't. Kinda ignore that. Some chapters I can think of an appropriate title, and some I can't. Just deal with it.  
  
Chapter Four- So, Who Gets the Front Seat?  
  
Charles Xavier sighed. "I'm still not getting a clear reading on this mutant. No identity, no.anything."  
  
"We just have to keep searching, Charles," Hank said as he busily went back to his research.  
  
"They killed another one, Chuck,"  
  
The Professor turned around to see Logan holding today's newspaper in his face.  
  
"Was a girl this time," Logan's voice was grim. "She was fifteen. Also a mutant."  
  
"Yes, what was her name?" The Professor turned back to Cerebro.  
  
"Clara Oberman. Her brother died in that one big car accident a few years back."  
  
The Professor closed his eyes. "Clara Oberman, 15, had some kind of form of navigational powers."  
  
"When was this, Logan?" he asked, turning back to the man.  
  
"A few days back. Her lungs were filled with blood. Don't know what caused it."  
  
"I don't like how close she lived to us, Charles," Hank's blue form said from his computer.  
  
"Approximately eight minutes away," the Professor sighed again. Slight worry etched his brow, and Logan could smell it.  
  
"Don't worry, Chuck," he growled, "If that stinkbag steps one toe on the lawn, I'll *SNIKT* tear 'em to shreds." He had popped his claws out on one of his hands to emphasize what he meant.  
  
"I don't think even your adamantium claws will stop them, Logan," said the Professor quietly. He wondered if his students would be home anytime soon.  
  
"Hank, what's the time?" he turned to the beastly mutant.  
  
Hank checked the wristwatch on his arm. "It is forty-seven minutes after two."  
  
"So the students will be home soon," the Professor turned to Logan. "Logan, Danger Room sessions after school. Everybody."  
  
Logan nodded and went through the door, closing it quietly after him.  
  
* * * A figure leaned against the hood of a black BMW, idly smoking a pipe.  
  
He was parked just outside of the school and through narrowed eyes he watched the students exit.  
  
An odd looking couple (A/N-no I don't mean 'couple' as in 'lovers' by the way) caught his attention. A large -which is a complete understatement- boy with a blonde Mohawk, was wearing overalls, and busily munching on a bag of chips. There was another boy, who was hopping (hopping?) alongside the large boy. He was pale and he looked filthy. Suddenly a long, green, slimy, snake-like thing escaped his mouth to catch a nearby fly.  
  
The figure smirked. They were mutants, no wonder they looked strange. He got into his BMW to follow them and to get a closer look.  
  
He followed them to a parking lot on the other side of the school. They looked like they were headed towards a green Jeep.  
  
He smirked again. More mutants! His mind was reeling with excitement. Oh, what fun he was going to have!  
  
There, sitting in the driver's seat of the Jeep was a brown-haired boy. He looked bored. Arguing outside of the Jeep on the passenger's side was a silver-haired, skinny, boy and a dark haired girl. Their facial expressions were the same, as were their eyes, from what he can see from where he was.  
  
He decided to go closer, but not in the car. Stepping outside of the BMW, he walked in the general direction of the Jeep, but not as to look suspicious. He could hear their conversation clearly now.  
  
* * * "Wanda! I'm sitting in front! Me! As in ME! M-E, me!" He snapped vehemently. "Me! As in Pietro! Quicksilver! Speed-demon! SEX-GOD! ME!"  
  
"I'm glad that you can spell, Pietro," Wanda sneered, but she was starting to look angry and VERY annoyed. "But you got the front seat last time! It's MY turn."  
  
"NO I DIDN'T!" Pietro's pale cheeks were starting to turn a little bit pink. "YOU had it last time! *I* should sit in the front! I AM older anyways! AND leader!" he added as an afterthought.  
  
"Lance!" Wanda suddenly barked. Lance jumped about a foot out of his seat and looked at the two twins that were glaring at him.  
  
"W-what?" he asked stupidly.  
  
"Who's sitting in the front?" she was looking at him as if he was something on the bottom of her shoe  
  
"Me?" he replied dumbly. He wasn't paying the least bit of attention to the twins' argument earlier so he had no clue what they were talking about. He shouldn't have to answer them, -in his opinion, of course- besides, they ruined his daydreaming about Kitty.  
  
Wanda looked like she was just about to throw a hex-bolt at him. Her fingers were glowing with that blue aura anyways.  
  
"No, slow-mo," snapped Pietro, "We mean who's sitting in the passenger seat?"  
  
Lance looked at both of them, eyes darting back and forth. He was starting to feel worried. If he didn't chose Pietro, who knows what the speed-demon will do to him later to make him regret his decision. But if he didn't pick Wanda, she could kill him, or seriously hurt him at the least.  
  
Suddenly feeling frightened, the rock-tumbler looked away and mumbled something incoherent.  
  
"What was that?" snarled Pietro, who was getting very annoyed with his best friend's slowness.  
  
"I said," Lance breathed, "It's not my decision. But hurry up cause we aren't supposed to be here. Expelled remember? Kelly will know that it was us who clogged all the toilets and vandalized every bathroom in the entire school if he sees us."  
  
"And I don't know WHY I even do this with you to begin with," muttered Wanda darkly, "It's stupid and immature."  
  
Pietro -who usually had sudden mood-swings- grinned brightly and threw an arm around her shoulders. "Wanda! Come on, it's fun! Think of all the prissy-cheerleading-valley-girls! Wait till they found out we 'misplaced' all the tampons! ALL of them!"  
  
Wanda smiled slightly, but caught herself and quickly covered it up with a well-placed scowl. It didn't go unnoticed by her twin, however. Nothing usually does.  
  
"See?" he teased, "You think it's fun! Come on, Wanda! Cheer up. Frowns could permanently make a face ugly, you know. And you're my twin, and I'm extremely good looking. Actually, I'm extremely hot, but I don't want to sound conceited. If you were ugly, then what will they say about me? How could MY twin be ugly? Huh?"  
  
Wanda snorted, now not bothering to hide the tiny smile, "You and your fricken ego."  
  
"What ego?" he laughed.  
  
"We're back, yo," a voice called from behind them. A shadow momentarily passed over them as a figure hopped above their heads and into the front passenger seat. Pietro and Wanda suddenly scowled again. Freddy lumbered into the back seat, tilting the Jeep slightly on its right side as he sat down.  
  
"Who said you were sitting in the front?" Wanda glared at him.  
  
Todd just rolled his eyes, his yellowy-green teeth bared into quite an unattractive grin. "You and Pietro arguing over the front seat again, Baby- cakes?"  
  
If looks could kill, Todd would of keeled over right then.  
  
A blur, a gust of wind, and Todd was in the back seat next to Freddy.  
  
"Hey!" Todd yelled indignantly.  
  
"Me, Wanda, AND Freddy can't possibly fit in the back," snapped Pietro. "You're the smallest one, and Fred's the biggest. It makes sense."  
  
"But-" but Todd never finished the sentence as Wanda clutched her head and started muttering to herself.  
  
"I'm not going to kill them. I'm NOT going to kill them. Not going to kill them. Nope, they're stupid and immature. They can't help it. So don't kill them."  
  
They all shut up fairly quickly.  
  
Pietro's icy cerulean-blue eyes suddenly brightened again as a light bulb (in his own imagination) appeared above his head.  
  
"I got an ideaaa," he said in a sing-songy voice. Wanda turned and gave him an annoyed expression.  
  
"What?" she hissed at him. She was in no mood for his ideas at the moment. Actually, she was never in the mood for his ideas.  
  
Grinning, he casually put his arm back around her shoulders. "How about you sit in the passenger's seat, Wanda."  
  
Her eyes instantly narrowed. "And what about you?"  
  
"I'll," he stated smugly, his eyes glinting happily at them all, "drive."  
  
Lance's eyes immediately widened in alarm. "What! No! This is my jeep! You CAN'T drive!"  
  
"Why can't I, Caveman?" he sneered. Pietro used the nickname that always got Lance angry, but he didn't even notice the use of it.  
  
"Because you don't have a license!" Lance hissed as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "You didn't pass the test! You didn't even TAKE a test!"  
  
The speed-demon nodded vigorously, "Yes! Exactly! And that's precisely why I'm going to drive. See, how can you possibly know if I'm a reckless driver if I never even took the test? It's not like I failed it or anything."  
  
"No, Pie-" Lance began, but a blur and a gust of wind interrupted him and he found himself squished between the backseat of the driver's side door and Todd, who looked alarmed at the sudden lack of space.  
  
"What gives, yo?" he whined.  
  
Putting his arm across the back of the seats in the front, Pietro turned around with a grin and winked. "I'm driving, and if you don't like it, sue me."  
  
"Well 'I' don't like it," huffed Lance, who was trying to rearrange himself to get more comfortable. He couldn't really do more than argue with him, or Pietro will threaten Magneto on them.  
  
"Hey, I can't breath!" Todd gasped. "There's no room!"  
  
"Hang onto one of those bar things then," Pietro waved his hand absently behind him. Grumbling, Todd sat on the back of the seat and hung onto the bar.  
  
They sat there for a few minutes as Pietro drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.  
  
"Well.?" Wanda said.  
  
"Well what?" Pietro raised an eyebrow questionably.  
  
"Well, why the heck aren't you driving? The motor's running, but the car ain't going nowwheres, yo," huffed Todd from the back.  
  
"Oh, right," Pietro fumbled to step on the gas pedal.  
  
"WHAT THE HECK, PIETRO! SLOW DOWN!" Lance screeched from the back, clutching on to the back of Pietro's seat with one hand as he hastily strapped on his seatbelt with the other. Todd let out a shriek as he flew backwards, but just in time he wrapped his tongue around the bar.  
  
"Seatbelts!" the silver-haired mutant sang cheerfully. Wanda had her seatbelt on, but she was clutching the dashboard. Fred hardly moved, as he took up too much space, and the seatbelt wouldn't fit around him.  
  
"PIETRO! RED LIGHT! RED LIGHT! THAT WAS A RED LIGHT!" screamed Lance as he looked back to where the streetlights were and where the cars were still honking.  
  
"Whoops!" exclaimed Pietro a little too giddily as he hit a speed-limit sign that read 25 miles per hour.  
  
"Get off the sidewalk, yo!"  
  
"Pietro, drive right. But hurry up, I'm hungry."  
  
"STOP! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL HOLY STUFF, STOP!"  
  
"Pietro!"  
  
Suddenly they lurched to a halt. Lance smacked his nose against the back of the seat. Fred only moved forward a little. Wanda braced a foot against the dashboard, but hit her tooth on her knee, she was now cursing quietly to herself. Pietro hit his chest against the steering wheel, breathing hard. And poor Todd flew into the seat between Pietro and Wanda.  
  
"Why," Wanda gasped, "did you stop like that?"  
  
"Well, I couldn't possibly run over that poor innocent squirrel!" he pointed over to a little gray squirrel that was almost across the road. Wanda looked like she was going to strangle him.  
  
"Hey, Lance, can this jeep get any slower?" for a moment Lance thought Pietro was being sarcastic, but his face was serious.  
  
"What? YES it can! So why don't you drive the fricken speed-limit?" he growled.  
  
Pietro grumbled and went to step on the pedal but the car didn't go anywhere.  
  
"Uh."  
  
"What NOW?" snapped a very irritated Wanda.  
  
"I think we're out of gas," he gave a little laugh but he didn't think it was funny.  
  
Dimly, the other companions began to realize that the now-dented jeep was no longer rumbling.  
  
So they were out of gas. Huh.  
  
* * * A/N- You will not BELIEVE how much fun I had writing the BH in this chapter! I actually like writing them better than I like writing the X-Men. Can't wait to get started on the Acolytes! R&R! 


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer- I don't own any familiar characters within. I own all others though.  
  
Summary- Okay, the Professor decides he needs to have a talk with Clara Oberman's family to see if they could find out more about our mysterious and very evil mutant. I'm not entirely please with this chapter, but R&R it anyways.  
  
Author's Note- New rule people. If you want me to keep continuing this you have to review. I don't care if it's anonymous or what, I'm not posting a new chapter until I get at least one review for it. So please review, because I really want to finish this! I don't expect a lot for this chapter, because I don't get a lot of reviews, but really, reviews make you feel all lovely inside. Thank you!  
  
Chapter Five-  
  
A pale, thin, woman in a faded maroon colored bathrobe opened the door. A bald man in a wheelchair and a pretty African-American woman with ivory hair greeted her.  
  
"May I help you?" she asked hoarsely. She looked at them suspiciously from her gaunt face. There were dark shadows under her eyes.  
  
"Mrs. Oberman?" the man in the wheelchair replied softly. "My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and this is my colleague Ororo Munroe, may we come in please?"  
  
Nodding slightly, the woman stepped back and let the strangers into her home.  
  
"Jennifer? Jennifer, who's at the door?" a male voice sounded from the second door. She didn't answer him.  
  
"Please have a seat," she whispered, gesturing to a white sofa. Mrs. Oberman was obviously not thinking clearly, as the Professor couldn't just up and out of his wheelchair and walk to the sofa. Ororo did however.  
  
"Jennifer, why didn't you answer me?" the male voice stopped short suddenly as he spotted the two complete strangers in his living room.  
  
"He's a professor, John. Called a psychiatrist on me? Think I'm crazy now?" she snapped at him. He looked offended.  
  
"First off, Jennifer, psychiatrists go by 'Dr.' not 'Professor' and no, I didn't call one. Who are they, Jennifer?"  
  
The bald man wisely introduced himself before the mad woman could say anything more, "My name is Professor Charles Xavier and this is my colleague Ororo Munroe. I've come to talk about your daughter."  
  
Mr. Oberman's eyes hardened. "What do you know about my daughter? Get out! Get out! We don't want you here!"  
  
Carefully keeping an expressionless face, the Professor continued, "It is nothing bad, honest. If you'd just let me explain," the man stared at him but said nothing, "Thank you. About a week and a half ago, as you might of heard, three teenage boys died in their sleep. This also happened to your daughter. All four of them were mutants. This concerns me, because I am a guardian of a house full of them. There are some mutants who hate others, and I think one of them is responsible for the deaths. I intend to find him or her, and put a stop to this to assure the safety of others."  
  
"What do you want to know?" Mr. Oberman breathed as if he had just run the mile.  
  
For the first time since they arrived, Ms. Monroe spoke, "We were wondering if anything strange was happening lately. Did Clara maybe suffer from nightmares more than usual, lately?"  
  
Mrs. Oberman came in with a tray of four mugs of coffee. "She had nightmares in a row a couple of days before.before"  
  
The Professor nodded. She said nothing else as she quietly handed them their mugs of coffee.  
  
Suddenly, Mrs. Oberman dropped her mug and broke into sobs. Mr. Oberman just looked exasperated as she ran into the kitchen. He followed her.  
  
The two people in the living room could hear their voices flowing from the kitchen, and it made them uncomfortable.  
  
"Don't touch me, John, I don't need your help."  
  
"Jennifer, Jen, come on, I'll clean it."  
  
"Leave me alone, I said I don't need your help."  
  
"Jen-"  
  
"I said don't touch me John! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! I'LL CLEAN IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!"  
  
Mr. Oberman slowly walked back into the living room and looked at the two occupants of the room.  
  
"I think you should leave."  
  
The Professor nodded. "I understand. Thank you for your time."  
  
* * * "Do you think it's wise to interrogate this young man, Charles?" whispered Ororo as they rang the doorbell on the front patio of a little white house.  
  
"Yes."  
  
A girl of about fourteen with strawberry blonde hair opened the door ajar and peered at the visitors.  
  
"Can I help you?" she asked politely.  
  
The Professor smiled. "Yes, my name is Professor Charles Xavier and this is my colleague Ororo Monroe," the girl's eyes flickered briefly to Ororo and then back to Charles. "I need to ask Jack Campbell some questions. May we come in?"  
  
She nodded and opened the door wider to let them in. Her chocolate brown eyes stared at the Professor the whole time.  
  
"Jack's in a wheelchair too," she said sadly, "He's my step-brother. My name's Christine."  
  
"Nice to meet you Christine."  
  
"I'll go get Jack."  
  
She came back five minutes later. "Can you come to his room? It's on the first floor. I remember we had to switch because he can't go up the stairs no more."  
  
She led them to an average-sized room with beige carpeting. The bed in the corner was neatly made with a blue bedspread. There were posters of soccer, football, and basketball teams, models in bikinis and a playboy calendar was tacked up to the wall next to the bed. Looking out the window was a young man in a wheelchair. He was handsome, with a narrow face, a tan complexion, brown hair and brown eyes. His arms surprisingly were muscular even though he didn't have the use of his legs. That might have been from the pile of weights in the corner next to the stereo and a pile of CDs.  
  
"Jack, this is Professor Xavier and Ororo Munroe. They want to talk to you," Christine said. Jack turned to face her and his eyes rested on the professor.  
  
"Don't you grow tired of it?" he asked and the Professor didn't have to ask what he meant.  
  
"Sometimes," he replied, "But I have been like this for a long time and have grown used to it."  
  
"Get out, Christine," he commanded softly.  
  
She scowled at him as she slammed the door closed behind her.  
  
"What do you want?" Jack wheeled over to the side of his bed. He gestured to Ororo to sit down.  
  
"About Clara Oberman. You saw her lately?" Jack cocked his head to the side as the Professor said this.  
  
"Is this about how she died and stuff?" his brow furrowed.  
  
"I was wondering if she told you if she had any nightmares. I believe this is a mutant who is doing this and it concerns me greatly as I house a whole house full of them. It is even more concerning as she lived a mere ten minutes from us. The mutant, if it is one, seems to be getting closer to Bayville, as the teenage boys who died in their sleep a week or two ago were only ten miles."  
  
"Why don't you interrogate their family?" Jack suddenly snapped.  
  
Ororo spoke in a gently and calming voice. "We already did. They don't know if they had nightmares or not. Strange dreams. . ."  
  
Jack shook his head, "There's nothing I can tell you. You should go. Sorry if I'm not a good 'host' right now. Bye Sir, bye Miss."  
  
Shaking his hand, the two of them left, more disappointed than anything.  
  
* * * A/N- Okay, I'm not pleased with this chapter, but I wanted to get it out. R&R! Constructive criticism appreciated! 


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer- I, Nessie6 (because they said so), do not own any characters that belong to the Marvel Universe or have appeared in X-Men Evolution. I DO own Jeremy Herring, Chet Dobson, Raymond Dunburg, and Clara Oberman, but they are dead. I also own Clarence Foyer, whom you'll see who he is in this chapter.  
  
Summary- He's getting closer to the X-Men. First though, he must inspect the BH.  
  
Chapter Six  
  
Clarence Foyer was not a nice man. He is and always will be mean, nasty, and greedy. He loves money and other riches and he hates all other living things. He despises plants and he hates humans and other mutants so much that he wouldn't hesitate to kill them.  
  
He has many different looks. He could look rich with a fine mustache and neatly parted hair. He could be young. He could be old. He could look like the scariest thing in the world. But none of those were his true looks. His eyes never changed in his different appearances. They were always dark, always malicious. His eyes were like endless pits of black that were so cold that you will never feel safe and contempt for a very long time. That is, if you look squarely into them for more that a mere minute. Only few have.  
  
There was more to his powers than a strange telepathy where he could enter dreams and the dreamer could possibly never wake up. He has lived many years, possibly older than the oldest human alive. He is one hundred and twenty-one to be exact. Thanks to his regenerating powers, he can live for quite awhile.  
  
Foyer right now was standing just outside the sign that said, 'The Brotherhood Boarding House'. He smirked. There were mutants that lived in this house, he knew because he had followed them home. He walked a few steps closer.  
  
Smirking again, he walked backwards, still staring at the run-down boarding house. His sensitive hearing could pick up arguments and commotion that came from inside.  
  
Hiding in the tall bushes now, he became a different person, or was now a different person on the outside, rather, but inside he was still very cold, and he was still planning.  
  
Now he was wearing a gray suite with a neat tie. He had an even-trimmed black mustache and his raven hair was slicked back. He took the appearance of a middle-aged man. He grinned menacingly as he quickly walked back to his black BMW and opened the trunk, where a smooth, glossy, black leather briefcase lay. He then calmly strolled through the dented and damaged gates and walked to the front door. Without hesitating, he knocked his knuckles on the paint-chipped door sharply.  
  
It took a few moments for someone to answer. A very large boy with a blonde Mohawk opened the door abruptly, nearly ripping it off its hinges with his strength.  
  
Foyer sneered and stuck out his hand, "James Howard, sir, I'm hear to talk to you about your water supply?"  
  
The boy grabbed his hand to shake it and Foyer winced slightly as the boy nearly broke his hand.  
  
"Uh.lemme get Lance or Pietro," he said uncertainly and he stomped back to another part of the house. Mumbling could be heard in another room.  
  
While he was gone Foyer took a look at the surroundings. He wanted to take a longer time in torturing these teenagers, so he needed to know more about them and their environment before he could kill them. That's why the others had to die quickly, because he didn't spend enough time watching them.  
  
Suddenly blocking his view of the rest of the battered-up house was a tall and thin teenager with silver-white hair and cold chips of sapphire for eyes.  
  
"What do you want?" he sneered crossing his arms. Foyer took a moment to study him before answering. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a medium- dark green T-shirt with the words 'Abercrombie and Fitch' blazoned in golden yellow across his chest. How he could afford an expensive shirt like that, Foyer didn't know.  
  
Foyer put on a fake smile and stuck out his hand, which the boy did not take. "My name is James Howard and I'm here from the water department, and I'm here to talk to you about your water supply."  
  
The silver-haired mutant just scowled at him until Foyer noticed that his hand was still extended in mid-air. He quickly let it drop to his side.  
  
"We don't have any problems with our water supply," he snapped narrowing his eyes.  
  
Foyer knew this and already knew what to say. He did shake Fred's hand anyways, so he knew more about them that he should know. "Well you seemed to have problems with it in the past, like paying the bills on time. May I come in?"  
  
"My father pays our bills," the silver-haired mutant hissed.  
  
"Oh, so can I talk to your father if he's available, sir?" Foyer of course knew that their father would not be available; he didn't even live there.  
  
The young man stared at him for a moment. Then he spoke through gritted teeth, "He's not."  
  
Foyer managed to make a look of disappointment fill his face. "Oh, then can I speak with you? Except can I come in?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh, Pietro just let the poor man in," a female voice said behind Pietro. Foyer shifted his eyes to stare at her. She had short ebony hair and the same eyes as Pietro. He smirked again and stuck out his hand for her to shake.  
  
Pietro glared at him and his sister. His eyes went even narrower when he saw Foyer's smirk grow wider when Wanda shook his hand.  
  
Wanda's polite smile faltered slightly when she saw something flicker in the older man's eyes. She ignored it for the time being and stepped aside to let him in.  
  
She led him into the living room where the smallest member of the household was sitting in a torn up purple beanbag chair and attacking a controller and grumbling at the screen, telling his player to kill the guy faster. The large boy, Fred, was sitting on the floor beside the couch and was scratching his head and staring at the playing cards he was holding in his hand. Another young man, one that looked like a hood, was standing behind the one playing the video game and was facing the window. His head was tilted back and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped down a can of Pepsi. He burped, crumpled up the can, and tossed it casually over his shoulder. He wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand.  
  
Wanda glared at him. "Lance, if that Pepsi can is still there and not in the recycling bin in a half-hour, I will personally make sure you never have children."  
  
Lance swallowed once and blinked, looking slightly worried. He quickly went and sat in the armchair. Wanda rolled her eyes and growled.  
  
She turned back to them all, "This is James Howard, from the water department place. He's going to talk to us about the water bills and-"  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" interrupted Todd from the beanbag chair, pausing his video game, "we paid the bills this time!"  
  
"He's here to talk about the past bills, Toad," Wanda hissed, the familiar blue aura surrounding her fingertips.  
  
Foyer smirked and grabbed Todd's hand and shook it. Todd just stared numbly as their two hands moved up and down, his own arm limp. He then went over to Lance, who stood up, and stuck out his hand to shake.  
  
Lance just swatted it out of the way. "Why would you want to talk to us about it? The bills are paid. You don't need to know anymore."  
  
Foyer's expression faltered slightly. He then turned to Pietro who was leaning over the back of the couch and staring out the window. He turned his head toward him and asked, "That your BMW?"  
  
"Yes," Foyer answered slowly. Pietro just stared back at him, not moving or blinking. He then quickly shook his head, sat down in the corner of the couch, where he crossed his ankle over his knee. He put his right hand over the ankle and foot, and his left hand was on his left knee, where his index finger was tapping at a wild pace.  
  
Foyer invited himself to sit at the opposite corner of the couch and opened his briefcase. "So there're only five of you living here?"  
  
"Yeah," answered Wanda since none of the boys seemed to want to listen or answer him. Pietro had zoomed off into the hallway and they could hear him rummaging in the closet. He then zipped back in and tossed a paddle with a little yellow ball attached to it to Lance. He was holding a paddle with an orange ball.  
  
"You, me, Paddle-ball contest," he said, "First one to get to fifty is the winner."  
  
Lance scowled at him. "You'll cheat. First one to screw up is the looser."  
  
Pietro stared at him for a second. It was only a second, mind you. "Okay. Wanda, count to three."  
  
Wanda sighed, "Guys, there's a man here to talk about our water."  
  
Lance and Pietro blinked at her.  
  
"So what? Kick him out, I don't care," scoffed Lance.  
  
"Guys-" she said then sighed when she saw that they were staring at her again. "Oh, all right!" she fumed.  
  
"One,"  
  
"Two,"  
  
"Three!"  
  
And the two boys started hitting the ball with the paddle furiously.  
  
Wanda turned back to Foyer. "Sorry about that," she said, "So, what do you want to know?"  
  
"Now, your father is the one paying the bills?" he asked ruffling through some 'documents'.  
  
"Y-yes," Wanda said, looking confused. No one ever said that she and Pietro were brother and sister.  
  
"Argh! Rematch, Pietro!"  
  
The speedster smirked. "Alright. Onetwothreego!"  
  
"Argh! Count slower!"  
  
"One. . . twothreego!" Pietro counted again, barely going any slower than the first time.  
  
"Wanda! You gotta count again!" Lance whined as he accidentally hit himself in the face with the little rubber ball.  
  
Wanda snarled. "One, two, three, go."  
  
Pietro was hitting the ball so fast now that his string snapped in half and the ball hit the ceiling and bounced off his head. It was now bouncing all over the living room.  
  
"Ahh!" Todd cried as the ball whacked him in the side of the head and then bounced off his controller. It then continued to bounce around the room still. All eyes followed it.  
  
It was heading straight back to Pietro who shouted, "Duck for cover!" as the ball bounced off the coffee table, ruined Freddy's card game, and bounced out the open window.  
  
Foyer had enough of the idiots for the day. He would come back later. Or he would stay, but not as James Howard, the water department guy. "It was a pleasure meeting you, but I have to go. Other people to talk to." And he nodded to them all and walked out. Once he was outside, but out of the seeing range of the window he changed into a crow and flew up into the tree and watched them through the window.  
  
Wanda stared at Pietro. She was just raising her hand to hex him, just as she saw something shiny and blue out of the corner of her eye.  
  
"Lance! What did I say about the pop can?" she screeched and aimed a hex bolt at him. He dodged it, grabbed the pop can, and ran out the front door.  
  
Pietro looked at her then back out the window and noticed the black BMW was still there, but not James Howard.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * A/N- Thanks for reviewing! If anyone has any suggestions for a code-name for Clarence Foyer, please mention it! I really need one! R&R!  
  
Constructive criticism welcomed and appreciated! 


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer- You know the drill. I own nothing, I am not making any money off of this, and I own all characters you do not recognize. X-Men belong to Marvel. Not me. Marvel.  
  
Summary- The Brotherhood is the first ones to be plagued with dreams. . .What are their fears?  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
Charles Xavier furrowed his brow as he looked at Cerebro. The mutant- finding machine picked up some powers VERY close to the Brotherhood Boarding House that did NOT belong to any of its members. The mutant was a shape-shifter and the professor very much doubted that it was Mystique.  
  
"Found something, Chuck?" he heard Wolverine say behind him.  
  
"Logan, Cerebro has sensed a shape-shifter by the Brotherhood," the professor said.  
  
Logan idly lit a cigar, "Could be Mystique," he said matter-of-factly.  
  
The professor shook his head, "No, no. It wasn't Mystique . . ."  
  
Logan raised an eyebrow, "You think it's the guy?"  
  
"I-I don't know," murmured the professor, staring at the screen. "Mystique's shape-shifting powers are more advanced. This one is not quite as powerful. There was also something else, but Cerebro could not get a clear reading on it."  
  
"So whattaya gonna do?" Logan asked. He puffed on his cigar.  
  
The professor turned his wheelchair around to face Logan, "I'm going to watch over them. Tonight, I'll sense if their dreams have any distress in them. I need to sleep now though if I am going to do that. I need to be awake to concentrate."  
  
Logan puffed on his cigar again, "Whatever ya say, Chuck."  
  
"Yes, yes. I am going to take a nap. Wake me up at ten o'clock, Logan," he started to wheel his way out of the room but then stopped at the door. "Oh, and Logan?"  
  
"Yeah?" Logan asked gruffly.  
  
"You know not to smoke that in here. Please go outside with that thing," and the Professor wheeled his way out of the room. Logan growled.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Logan walked down the hallway to the kitchen when he saw Bobby Drake eating. He growled and walked quickly towards him. Bobby looked up and gave a squeak and tried to make a mad dash for it.  
  
"Hold it right there, bub," Logan growled and Bobby froze in place, looking very frightened.  
  
"Think you could skip this morning's Danger Room sessions, didja, Ice- cube?" He snarled at the shaking Iceman.  
  
"Well-well, you s-see," he stuttered out.  
  
"No, I don't want to see. You got extra training sessions fer four weeks. Next time, think before doing something stupid." And Logan walked out the door in a very bad mood.  
  
Kurt looked at Bobby as he slowly sat back down and shook his head, "You actually vere stupid enough to skip Mr. Logan's training sessions?"  
  
Bobby just glared back at him.  
  
"Aw, Kurt, come on. Like, give the kid a break," Kitty laughed as she got up and started walking out of the kitchen. Kurt followed her.  
  
"Vell he vas being stupid! You don't skip anything that is being taught by Logan!" Bobby heard Kurt say as they exited the kitchen. He scowled at his plate.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
He was laying down on something flat and cool. He groaned, turning his head to the side and slowly blinked his eyes open. The cold cerulean blue eyes saw white.  
  
Pietro started feeling with his fingers what he lay on. The surface was cool and smooth. It was metal.  
  
Slowly he sat up and put his legs over the side of the metal surface. The room was white. The ceiling, the walls, the cabinets, they were all white.  
  
Running a hand through his hair he noticed on his wrist was some sort of plastic bracelet you wear when you're at the hospital. His eyes widened slightly.  
  
He looked down at the clothing he was wearing. He was wearing some sort of white hospital gown. Pietro never wears white unless. . .  
  
Unless his father was experimenting on them. . .  
  
Pietro gave a yelp of fright and it echoed throughout the room. He clamped a hand over his mouth and looked around the room again. Next to the thing he lay on was a tray with scalpels on it . . .  
  
But Father never used scalpels. The concept of cutting his children open never appealed much to him. So he never used scalpels.  
  
Pietro slid off from where he was laying before and his bare feet hit the cool, white, tile.  
  
He stumbled to the door, his hand outstretched to the doorknob. He grabbed it and turned it, pushing the door open with a little more force than what was necessary.  
  
Half standing in the room and in the white hall, Pietro looked back at the scalpels. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.  
  
'Wanda are you having this dream? Is this what the asylum looked like? Did they use scalpels on you?!' he thought to himself. He did not know why, but panic began to rise in his chest.  
  
There were many doors down the hallway and each of them had windows. He tried not to look inside at the other white rooms with more sharp scalpels . . .  
  
But he could not help himself. Stopping in front of one of the doors, he peered inside the window.  
  
What he saw made his blood freeze.  
  
Inside were people that looked like doctors, with white scrubs on and white masks. There were seven of them and on the metal operating table was a person. Three men on each side held the figure down, but it was still thrashing and writhing and Pietro was sure that it was screaming.  
  
Then he saw something that made his stomach upset and he could taste the bile in his throat. One of the doctors or whatever they are, leaned in to the patient, or victim, and looking at its stomach, he took a small scalpel and touched it to the delicate skin. He moved his hand and Pietro saw him slicing the person open. Blood was oozing from the person's stomach and he saw the person jump and thrash and writhe in pain. Then he saw the person's face. Her mouth was stretched wide in a scream and tears were leaking out of her eyes that were screwed up.  
  
But that was not what made Pietro's heart stop thumping. It was who the person was.  
  
It was Wanda.  
  
Suddenly Pietro felt not only afraid, but now he was angry. Anger so powerful that he no longer feared those men inside like he did before. He pounded on the door and tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked. He threw himself at the door, his shoulder crashed into it and he hurt it, but that did not matter. Wanda was in there, and he had to get her out. The door did not budge. The men with the scalpels didn't even notice he was out there.  
  
Helplessness seized him and he dropped to his knees and put his face in his hands, letting the tears leak out of his eyes. He could hear the screaming now, and his chest hurt every time she screamed. Then suddenly, it was silenced.  
  
"Oh, God, Wanda . . ." he whispered. He heard the men inside walking around. They must be done.  
  
Pietro forced himself to stand on his feet, and he began to run. He was running so slow . . .  
  
Why couldn't he run normally?  
  
But he still ran and he turned right, ran, turned left, ran, straight, ran, left, right, left, left, right, straight. Stop.  
  
He fell to his knees, sobbing, whispering over and over again, "I'm sorry, Wanda. I'm so so sorry! Oh, God I'm so sorry!"  
  
Then he froze again. Chills went down his spine. His heart was thumping so loudly that he couldn't hear anything else that was around him. Except . . .  
  
"Pietro," a voice whispered. Pietro gave a quiet whimper.  
  
"Pietro," the voice rattled, and it was louder this time.  
  
"Pietro." Louder.  
  
"Pietro." Louder . . .  
  
"Pietro." Oh, God, STOP!  
  
Pietro sat bolt upright in his bed. The sheets and his pajama pants and T- shirt were soaked with sweat. His hair was sopping wet and his face was mingled with sweat and tears. His shoulder was sore and he massaged it a little. The tears did not stop coming.  
  
Slowly and numbly, he pulled the blankets off of himself and got out of bed. Quickly, he changed into dry clothes. When he was done with that he opened the door and walked down the hall towards Wanda's room.  
  
He slowly opened the door a crack and peaked in. When he was assured that Wanda was asleep, because he would have been dead if she was not because he was in her room, he tip-toed inside.  
  
He looked down at her face and lowered his until it was about three inches away from hers. She was still breathing but her face looked a little troubled. She probably sensed that he had a nightmare.  
  
Her blue eyes snapped open and he gasped and flew back away from her.  
  
"What are you doing in my room," she asked groggily, but she still sounded dangerous.  
  
"Jus-just checking to see if you were all right," he murmured quietly and zipped out of the room in a blur. Wanda looked at the door he exited and had a confused look on her face.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Professor Charles Xavier was sweating slightly as he just finished scanning Quicksilver's dream. He knew that it was not a normal one.  
  
He heard a knock on his bedroom door and knew it was Logan. "Come in, Logan," He called.  
  
Logan came in and stood next to the professor by the window. "Alright, Chuck?" he asked.  
  
"Quicksilver had a dream. It was so graphic and vivid . . ." he trailed off and looked at Logan.  
  
Wolverine's eyes widened slightly, "What happened? Did he . . .?"  
  
But the professor shook his head. "No, he didn't die. He was the only one who had a nightmare. He does not get them often, I think, and when he does get them, it's not what he dreamed about tonight."  
  
Logan nodded, "I'll go scout around their house. Don't worry, I won't be seen."  
  
And he walked out the door with the professor looking after him, worrying about the safety of all the children, even the Brotherhood.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N- How'd you like this chapter? I'm quite proud of Quicksilver's dream. Very nightmarish.  
  
Well anyways thanks for the reviews! And R&R! Check out my other stories too! 


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer- I do not own anything that has to do with X-Men Evolution. I am not making money off this story whatsoever.  
  
Author's Note- Updates won't be as quick as usual. I've been back in school so I don't have too much time to write a chapter, and I'm currently writing four stories, and then I'm going to write another one. They won't take too long though, I promise.  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
The professor looked thoughtful as he gazed intently out of the large window from his bedroom. His brow was furrowed and his fingertips were together almost as if in prayer but not quite exactly. They rested against his lips, which were set in a grim line. He was wearing an elegant robe, made of fine silk that was the color of a dark forest green.  
  
It was around six-thirty in the morning, and only a few of the students were up, getting ready for school. Jean and Scott were two of them of course and only a few of the New Recruits. Ororo was up making the breakfast and Logan was not yet home from his scouting of the Brotherhood Boarding House.  
  
Charles furrowed his brow further. Logan should have been home by now, he sent him out only three and a half hours ago. He wasn't particularly worried; Logan could definitely take care of himself. The other mutant must of found something and went to investigate it further.  
  
Charles focused himself more of looking out the window. Distantly, he heard the Wolverine's motorcycle, and a few minutes passed before the telepath saw him driving up the driveway towards the mansion's garage. He watched as the door opened and closed. Then, he waited.  
  
He heard the gruff man's footsteps climb up the stairs and towards the professor's bedroom. They sounded almost angry, but Wolverine always seemed angry so there was nothing really to worry about. Then they stopped just outside of the door, and then he knocked.  
  
"Come in, Logan," Charles called out to the man. The door opened and in came Wolverine. There was a scowl on his face and a toothpick was protruding from his mouth.  
  
"What did you find?" Charles asked, wheeling himself closer to the mutant.  
  
"Nothin'," he growled and his eyes flickered away from the professor's face. "There was somebody there, but it could have just been a salesperson or somethin'. I'll probably recognize the smell if I came across it again."  
  
"We must be suspicious of that," the professor said, taking note of that piece of information and storing it inside of his head, just in case it became important later on. "I do not think it is usual that the Brotherhood gets salespeople visiting very often."  
  
"So, what are ya gonna do, Chuck?" Wolverine asked, folding his hairy harms across his chest.  
  
"I'm going to call the Brotherhood. They need to be warned of this danger," the professor said wheeling himself to the window again. Logan followed.  
  
"Somethin' tells me they aren't going to listen to you," Logan growled. He started chewing on the toothpick.  
  
"I think they will if they know that their lives are threatened," Charles turned his head to Logan and gave him a small smile. "Somehow, I don't think they care little about themselves. They would undoubtedly want to be safe."  
  
Logan growled and walked out of the room.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Lance was pretending he was playing an electric guitar to the loud music he was playing on the old stereo he owned. Metallica was currently playing.  
  
Fred was currently stuffing his face downstairs, Pietro went on his usual afternoon run, Wanda was doing god-knows-what, and Todd was sleeping at that moment. Lance woke up unusually early this morning, 11:30. Right now it was almost an hour later.  
  
He was turning the music louder when there was a loud knock on the door. He almost didn't hear it and he decided to ignore it. There was an even louder knock.  
  
"Freddy's taking me to the mall!" Wanda shouted from the opposite side of the door.  
  
"Whatever!" he hollered back over the loud music, not really hearing what she said.  
  
He jumped on his bed and landed on his back as one of the musician's was playing a big guitar solo at the beginning of the song 'Enter Sandman'. Then the singing begun:  
  
Say your prayers little one  
Don't forget, my son  
To include everyone  
Tuck you in, warm within  
Keep you free from sin  
Till the Sandman he comes  
Sleep with one eye open  
Gripping your pillow tight  
  
Then Lance began to sing along with the song in a horrible tune. Downstairs, the phone rang, and he didn't hear it as he sang.  
  
Exit light!  
Enter Night!  
Take my hand!  
Off to Never Never land!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Downstairs in the old boarding house, the phone rang continuously.  
  
Ring!  
  
Ring!  
  
Ring!  
  
Finally, after nine rings, the answer machine went on.  
  
"This is Pietro Maximoff, l o o o ve machine. Sorry, ladies! I'm not at home, obviously, or I would have already answered! Sorry to severely disappoint you. Although, there are four other losers that live here so unfortunately, one being my sister (keep your hands off of her, by the way) there is a small chance that your are not calling for me. If you ARE calling for me, please leave your age, height, eye color, hair color, gender, (although it is preferable that you are female) and leave your bra size. Ciao!"  
  
"Brotherhood, this is Charles Xavier. There is an urgent message I would like to give to you but I cannot explain it all in the answering machine. It concerns your lives and your safety. Would you please call the Xavier Mansion for further details? It is for your safety. Have a good day." B e e ep.  
  
Two hours later. . .  
  
Wanda walked into the room, stomping up the stairs with a shopping bag in one hand. She disposed of it in her room and kicked off her shoes. It was hotter than usual outside and she was wearing her favorite outfit: a red button tank top and her tight black leather pants. Around her neck were numerous chains and around her wrists. Around her fingers were different kinds of silver rings and her nails were painted a vibrant red.  
  
She walked down the stairs and found Fred already watching the TV with Todd and he was chowing down a whole bag of BBQ chips (a/n- ooh yea).  
  
Wanda checked their new answering machine on the way to the kitchen. There were three messages.  
  
"Don't you losers know how to check messages at least?" she said to them in distaste.  
  
Todd grinned at her. "No, snookums, we just all low maintenance and stuff. 'Cording to Pietro, yo, we're just a bunch of losers who can't do nothing."  
  
"Well you better learn!" she snarled at him as she turned back to the machine and pressed the round button that was labeled 'messages' underneath.  
  
A mechanical voice said-  
  
"Monday, May 31, 2002 12:32 PM."  
  
"Brotherhood, this is Charles Xavier. There is an urgent message I would like to give to you but I cannot explain it all in the answering machine. It concerns your lives and your safety. Would you please call the Xavier Mansion for further details? It is for your safety. Have a good day."  
  
Wanda raised an eyebrow at this message and decided she shouldn't delete it. She listened to then next two messages.  
  
"Monday, May 31, 2002, 1:45 PM."  
  
"Hey-uh-hi, this is, um, Kathy, I, um, I'm calling for Pietro. I was wondering if, um, if we're still going on our date tomorrow night. Um, call me. Looking forward to it. Bye."  
  
Wanda sneered. Pathetic.  
  
"Monday, May 31, 2002, 2:30 PM."  
  
"Did you have pleasant dreams last night, my young little Maximoff? I know I did. Angenehme Traume. . ."  
  
Wanda was frozen. The voice was soft, almost like a snake's hiss. It sounded so menacing; it was so cunning, so impeccably evil that it was enough to freeze her blood in place. She was sure he wasn't talking about her. She didn't dream last night. Why did he speak German at the end? She knew what it meant. It meant 'pleasant dreams'. She shivered and walked into the living room where Fred and Todd were.  
  
"Where's Pietro?" she asked them softly. Fred looked a little surprised that she wasn't scowling at them. In fact, her voice quivered slightly.  
  
"He's in the kitchen. Said he kinda ran too fast and too long today, so he needs to fill himself up," Fred answered her. She nodded and made her way to the kitchen, Todd following her.  
  
"Don't follow me, Toad!" she snarled at him and raised her hand threateningly.  
  
"Aww, snugglebumps, but I love you!" he said to her in a dreamy voice hopping after her.  
  
Next thing he knew, he found himself sliding slowly down the wall behind him. There still was a dreamy expression on his face.  
  
Wanda gave one final growl and said, "Don't EVER call me that again." And she turned back around and finished her way to the kitchen.  
  
She found Pietro with his back facing to the entrance, fixing himself a large sandwich at top speed. Wanda leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed across her chest, watching him until he noticed her.  
  
He sat down at the table with all kinds of foods and then started cutting the crust off of his sandwich.  
  
Stuffing almost half of the sandwich into his mouth, his eyes flickered up to Wanda. They then flickered back down, concentrating on his sandwich.  
  
Wanda strolled over to the table, pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. Placing her elbows on the table, she rested her chin on her entwined fingers and stared at him intently. He tensed only slightly when he felt her stare, but then he relaxed. He raised his head slightly and they stared at each other as he ate.  
  
Finally finishing all of his solid food, Pietro grabbed the full glass of milk in front of him and gulped it down, still looking at Wanda out of the corner of his eye. He set the glass down on the table with at thud and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, using his super speed, he cleaned up his mess and then sat back down in the chair he sat in.  
  
"Am I so interesting to stare at?" he snapped at her.  
  
Her lip curled up in a snarl, "No. I just wanted to tell you something."  
  
"What?" he said and he leaned back in the chair, and then he leaned forward again, resting on the table and drumming his fingers so fast they sounded like a vibration.  
  
"One of your blonde bimbos called," she said in a sneer.  
  
He raised a dark eyebrow, "Which one?"  
  
"Some girl named Kathy," she said.  
  
"Kathy's a redhead, no-it-all," he sneered back at her, leaning back in his chair again and putting his hands behind his head.  
  
"Whatever," she spat. Her face became troubled as Pietro leaned forward again and then lean back. He always fidgeted this was.  
  
"There's something else," she said quietly. Pietro looked at her through his cold blue eyes.  
  
Silently Wanda grabbed his hand and got up from her seat, tugging a bit on Pietro's hand for him to follow. He got up and followed her.  
  
"Did you check the messages today?" she asked him as they stopped in front of the machine.  
  
"No," he said staring at it with a puzzled expression. Wanda pressed the button and together they listened to the three messages.  
  
His eyes widened slightly at the first message, he laughed a little at the second, but at the third his body tensed up so much, it was like touching a rock. Then he started shivering.  
  
"Pietro, who was that?" Wanda asked gently, rubbing his shoulders gently to ease and relax the muscles.  
  
"I-I remember that voice." His voice trembled slightly.  
  
"I think we should call Xavier," Wanda said to him very calmly, because saying that might make him loose his temper. Pietro nodded only slightly. His entire body was trembling now.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.  
  
Now he was angry. He whipped around and stared at her through icy eyes, his cheeks were slightly pink. "No. There's nothing to talk about!" he snarled vehemently and he ripped his hand away from hers as if she burned him.  
  
He walked away from her and then said over his shoulder harshly, "I'm going to call Father." And then he went out the front door, not bothering to close it.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N- So how was this chapter? I know I haven't updated this one in a while, I apologize. I hope I get some good reviews for this. Thanks to all who reviewed! You're the reason I update! R&R! 


	9. Chapter Nine

Gambit blew up my disclaimer saying that I don't own any of this stuff.  
  
Author's Note- Sorry, having a little bit of writer's block for this story and Drastic Changes. If you see any updates, it will most likely be Blood Is Thicker Than Water, Up In Flames and The Downside of Falling in Love. Check those out by the way.  
  
~ ~ Telepathic speaking  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Scott was having the time of his life before THEY showed up.  
  
He had been happily handfed French fries by Jean, when all of a sudden Alvers and his little posse came strutting in, looking all cool and 'threatening'. He knew they were just asking for trouble. He didn't really mind Wanda Maximoff, he kind of felt sorry for her, but that didn't change his feelings for her twin. But it especially didn't change his feelings for Alvers.  
  
If they come near us. . .  
  
But they didn't. They didn't even seem to notice that they were even there. Jean only tensed slightly but relaxed almost instantly.  
  
"Relax, Scott," she said quietly, "I don't think they're looking for trouble today."  
  
Scott snorted, "Since when do they not?"  
  
Jean rolled her eyes and smiled. She took one of the French fries and went to give it to Scott and when he went to bite it she quickly changed its course and instead put it inside her mouth.  
  
Scott warily kept an eye on the group. They had sat down at a table, Lance ordering their food.  
  
If they get us banned from McDonald's. . .  
  
"Scott stop your worrying," Jean said soothingly.  
  
Scott gave her a small reassuring smile. "Can't blame me for being slightly worried. If they start any crap. . ."  
  
Jean shook her head. "Just ignore them Scott. They aren't doing anything. Just pretend they're not there."  
  
But Scott couldn't help but stare at them. He acted like he was staring at the door while he kept the corner of his eye on the delinquents. Pietro looked a little odd. Almost fidgety, which actually wasn't new, but almost afraid.  
  
Ah well.  
  
Someone entered the world-famous restaurant. It was just a man, maybe mid- twenties. He wasn't exactly good looking, but he wasn't hard on the eye. Well, from what Scott could guess from a girl's point-of-view. He was a guy with a girlfriend, after all.  
  
What startled Scott about the man though, were his eyes. They were cold. They were black.  
  
The man went up to the counter and ordered his food, and he went to a table near the Brotherhood with a fish sandwich and what looked like a coffee. He ate, but his eyes seemed to be fixed on the Brotherhood.  
  
Quicksilver looked around, and suddenly looked like he shivered. This surprised Scott and he said this to Jean. Well, he thought this to Jean, since he really didn't want to be overheard.  
  
~Would you stop spying on them, Scott? They're fine, they're eating, they're behaving~ Jean's voice reprimanded in his head.  
  
~But that was strange~  
  
~Just get over it~ Jean's voice was irritated. Scott looked at her. He didn't know what he did to deserve her, but he was glad that she was with him. He was especially glad she chose him over Duncan Matthews.  
  
Jerk.  
  
Scott reluctantly went back to his hamburger and fries. He talked to Jean about every thing; they had a lot in common.  
  
"I just wish that Principal Kelly would see us as equals," Jean said sadly.  
  
"They'll all come around in the end," Scott reassured her.  
  
He could not keep his focus away from the Brotherhood for long however, because Pietro let out a yelp and was looking around the restaurant with wide and frightened eyes. He spotted them and stood up abruptly.  
  
"I suppose you think that was very funny, Grey," he snarled.  
  
Jean looked utterly confused. "What?"  
  
"You know what! It's not funny!" he spat. The other Brotherhood members looked alarmed at Pietro's outburst. Wanda put a hand on his arm and tried to pull him down. He ripped it from her grasp.  
  
"Pietro I have no idea what you're talking about," Jean said. Scott glared at the group with loathing, although no one could see it because of his ruby-quartz glasses.  
  
"Of course you know! It's not funny!" He yelled. Everybody was looking in their direction. Everybody except for the man with the black eyes.  
  
Scott noticed this and furrowed his brow. How could he not stare at the speed demon in disgust and alarm like everybody else?  
  
"Pietro! I didn't do anything! Why would I?" Jean asked incredulously, insulted that she was accused of doing anything mean.  
  
"The voice! The voice inside my head! You know what I'm talking about!" Pietro cried frantically, panicking now that he realized that Jean didn't know what he was talking about.  
  
Scott looked at the man again. He had some sort of self-satisfied smirk.  
  
"What voice?" Jean asked.  
  
"Stop! Stop lying!" Pietro was doubled over, his hands gripping the sides of his head, covering his ears. The thin hands then slid up and raked through his hair, stopping and then balling them up into fists, gripping the white hair underneath, little tufts poking out from between his fingers. He screwed his eyes closed and let out a moan.  
  
Lance got up and grabbed Pietro's arm, tugging him towards the exit.  
  
"Todd, Fred, grab the food. We're bringing it home," Lance said to them. "Do NOT eat it or there will be hell to pay."  
  
Todd and Fred did so, for once serious. Scott wondered if the whole team was going crazy.  
  
Wanda walked up to the left side of Pietro and started pulling him along also. He dragged his feet, his hands still gripping his hair; his eyes still closed tight, blindly following their lead.  
  
Scott and Jean then stood up, finished with their meal. They headed towards the exit also; everybody that had been staring at the whole scene now awkwardly went back to their food.  
  
Scott looked at the man one last time. He was staring right at them in the eyes, and it made Scott's hair stand on end.  
  
They exited and Scott could feel the tingling sensation on the spot right between his shoulder blades.  
  
He did not have a good feeling about that guy and wondered if he had anything to do with the whole ordeal.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
They walked into the McDonald's, not noticing that the two biggest X-Geeks were in there also.  
  
They sat down at a table while Lance went up to order everybody's food.  
  
A few more customers entered.  
  
Pietro felt a chill course through him at that moment. He did not like the feeling. It felt familiar, but he could not place where he had it before.  
  
They ate in silence, only talking occasionally. They all felt awkward, each had the feeling that somebody was staring at them. For Pietro, it was driving him mad.  
  
Then he heard it.  
  
'Pietro. . .' he could practically see the place fog up. The windows frost, the icicles form. . .  
  
That was when he saw Summers and Grey. He narrowed his eyes. It had to be Grey. She was a telepath after all.  
  
That was when he stood up and accused her of trying to torment him.  
  
She did not know what he was talking about.  
  
And it scared Pietro like nothing ever had before.  
  
He had called Father about the message on the answering machine. He had replied:  
  
"If it happens again, call me. I will then speak to Charles."  
  
His father didn't believe him. He thought it was some kind of joke Pietro was playing; he could hear it in his voice.  
  
But it was not a joke.  
  
It wasn't funny at all.  
  
When they exited, Lance shoved him into the jeep. Pietro rolled up into a ball and whimpered. He vaguely heard Wanda threaten Lance. Wanda climbed in next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't very comforting.  
  
He felt the jeep tilt on it's side slightly, indicating that Fred had climbed in. The door slammed shut.  
  
The passenger's door slammed shut.  
  
The driver's door opened, then it too, slammed shut.  
  
It was like they were locking him up. Trying to keep him from becoming insane.  
  
'I'm already am insane.' He thought bitterly.  
  
He released the fistfuls of hair and then slid his hands down over his ears again.  
  
The voice still echoed in his head.  
  
He was frightened.  
  
He had never been so frightened in his life.  
  
A whimper escaped his lips. He felt Wanda's hand on his back, the other rubbing his upper arm gently.  
  
Why was she being so nice?  
  
It had only been a dream. Why was this dream haunting him still? Why did it feel so different from all the other nightmares he ever had in his life?  
  
Why did it feel so real?  
  
He then realized that the jeep was moving. It had been moving for a while. He was curled up in the front seat, Wanda squeezed on the same seat next to him. Why was she being so nice?  
  
Did she even care he was going insane?  
  
"Pietro what the hell was that all about?" he heard Lance ask after a time. He knew Wanda was giving Lance one of her notorious death glares right then.  
  
"The voice inside my head," he choked out in a whisper.  
  
'Am I hearing voices now?'  
  
"What voice?" asked Wanda in a soothing voice.  
  
"The voice. The voice on the answering machine. It was in my head."  
  
He involuntarily let out another whimper.  
  
Lance looked at them both sharply.  
  
"What's this about?" he asked.  
  
"We'll show you the tape later," Wanda said firmly.  
  
Lance fell silent.  
  
Pietro would not open his eyes. He was afraid of what he would see.  
  
'Am I going insane?' he thought not for the last time.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Charles Xavier had listened to Scott and Jean's tale grimly. It was very strange and unnerving, especially about the part with the man with the black eyes.  
  
He shuddered.  
  
He did not want any harm coming to his students. They were his family.  
  
He sighed. It was only the adults and the older students in the study.  
  
"I guess I will tell you this now," he said to the assembled group.  
  
Kurt leaned forward, anxious to hear anything.  
  
"The mutant that had been killing the teenage mutants awhile back is now in Bayville."  
  
A collective gasp spread throughout the room.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Thank you! Thank you to all my kind and lovely reviewers!  
  
Ssam- It's useless begging who not to and who to kill off. I already know who I am. Characters are just thrown in at random. The reason I focused on Pietro and Wanda was because Pietro was the first one to have the dream. Thanks for your review!  
  
bitrona- As I said to Ssam, it's useless begging who to kill and who not to kill. Thanks for your review!  
  
The people that I guarantee are safe are Professor Xavier, Jean, Magneto, Gambit and Rogue. There's a reason too and you get cookies if you guess correctly!  
  
Also thanks for reviewing: rosie, LiLRoguE, spOoKz13412, and I Am The Anonymous Reviewer. PLEASE keep reviewing! 


	10. Chapter Ten

Disclaimer- When pigs fly and monkeys burst out of my ass, I'll be the QUEEN of Marvel.  
  
Author's Note- Sorry if I butcher the accents. I tried my best. Okay, Mastermind doesn't look like an ape and Gambit looks like his sexy comic book self. Mastermind also looks like his comic book self. Oh, and Wolverine too, since Evo's is just not cool. Or just picture them how you want.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Chapter Ten-  
  
Pyro chugged on his chosen alcoholic beverage. When he was done, he let out a large belch and crushed the can in his hand. He was sitting in the leather lazy boy chair in front of the TV, in only his underwear (they were briefs) and controlled the two naked women that were made out of flames. Gambit, his fellow comrade just shook his head at the Aussie, while Colossus ignored him.  
  
"Ah, Fostah's, Australian foah beer," he sighed blissfully, opening another can.  
  
"Calm down, homme," Gambit smirked from his solitaire game, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "Y' drink anot'er one an' you'll be shittin' clowns f 'r a week."  
  
"Oy only had the shits once!" Pyro defended himself, making the women turn to face Gambit and glare at him.  
  
Gambit's eyes glowed, "Whatever, mon ami. Jus' make sure y' spray air fresh'ner when y' done."  
  
"Oy was sick that week! Food poisoning!" Pyro exclaimed vehemently.  
  
"Jus' shut up and put some pants on," Gambit scowled, "Dat's jus' sick. Remy can see y'r bulge."  
  
"And whoy would ya be starin' at moy bulge foah?" Pyro smirked.  
  
"John, just do us all a favor and put pants on," Colossus said from his corner, not looking up from his doodling.  
  
"*Ahem*"  
  
They all looked up in surprise. The fire women vanished. They shot out of their seats, standing straight and faced the powerful and very dangerous being before them.  
  
"What are you doing?" Magneto hissed. His eyes flickered from Colossus to Gambit (who hastily snuffed the cigarette), to the empty and crushed beer cans, and then to Pyro, who started fidgeting.  
  
"Get in your uniforms, we're going to Xavier's," he told them very coldly. He looked at Pyro once again. "For God's sake, Pyro, put some damn clothes on!"  
  
"Yessir!" Pyro gave a salute and scrambled hurriedly out of the room.  
  
Gambit was in his thieves' armor and brown duster less than ten minutes later, while Colossus was in his uniform. Pyro had his on with his trusty flamethrowers strapped to his back.  
  
Sabretooth stayed behind, since Magneto decided it wouldn't be good for him and his archenemy Logan to meet each other face-to-face. Mastermind followed the others inside the metal orbs that would transport them to the mansion.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Magneto is coming. Please, please be civilized," Charles told all of his students.  
  
"Professor!" Scott cried in disbelief, "What if he tries to kidnap us?! What if he tries to kill you?!"  
  
Charles sighed, kneading his forehead tiredly with his fingertips, "Please Scott, just be civilized. I know Magneto; he will not kill us or kidnap us. He has never tried. To kill at least. This issue concerns him and his team as much as it concerns us."  
  
"The Brotherhood is here," Jean said suddenly, sensing the five members approach the fence.  
  
"What!" Evan shouted indignantly, "Who invited the 'Looserhood'?"  
  
Storm gave her nephew a reproachful look. Charles sighed again, "I did, Evan, since this also concerns them. In fact, the mutant knows about the Brotherhood, so they are in more danger than us right now."  
  
Evan huffed, and crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. Many of the other students shared the same reaction.  
  
"Ororo, will you please let them in?" Charles turned to Storm, who nodded and exited the study.  
  
"Will there be any others?" Amara asked.  
  
"I have warned the Morlocks, but they refused to come out of their sewers. And as you can see, I've also invited Tabitha and Forge," Charles smiled, gesturing to the two mutants.  
  
Storm entered the room again, the Brotherhood trailing after her, and to their surprise (except for Charles's) Magneto and his Acolytes.  
  
"Charles," Magneto greeted with a stiff nod.  
  
"Magnus," Charles greeted back, although his greeting was friendlier.  
  
Magneto was in his red armor and cape; the helmet of course was on his head. The Acolytes stood straight-backed behind him. The Brotherhood sat down at the empty chairs reluctantly, although Pietro stood behind his father with the other Acolytes, careful to keep his face blank.  
  
Wanda however, walked up happily to her father and hugged him. "How are you, Father?"  
  
Magneto looked surprised for a moment, but then he gave her the barest hint of a smile. "Good, Wanda. I trust you are well?"  
  
Wanda nodded and smiled. She turned and sat in the empty chair besides Lance. The X-Men were in shock, but did not say anything. Pietro just gave his father a hard look, but said nothing, since he did not want a death wish.  
  
Charles cleared his throat, "You and the Acolytes may sit down, Magnus."  
  
"They can stand," Magneto said coldly but he summoned a metal chair to him and sat.  
  
Charles cleared his throat again, "Since we are all here then, let's get right on the topic. There is a mutant in Bayville that poses as a threat to us. He, I'm assuming, has killed some mutants in the past. He can enter the dreams of a mutant, and there he kills them. Usually, these dreams are nightmares. Your worst fears possibly. He has possibly showed signs of being a shape-shifter, so he might you might have actually seen him before, but not know it." He took a deep breath, and looked around at the students' shocked faces, "It appears that one of us already had one of these dreams." His eyes flickered over to Pietro, who stiffened.  
  
"Yes," Magneto informed, "Quicksilver has informed me of a message that was left on their answering machine. It whispered 'sweet dreams' in German. I thought it was some sort of idea of one of his jokes at first, but now I guess I was...incorrect."  
  
"Vhy vould it whisper it in German?" asked Kurt curiously.  
  
Magneto sighed, slightly annoyed. "My theory is that because it was said in German was because Pietro and Wanda had lived in Germany before they lived in America."  
  
Pietro gave his father a sharp look, as if he wanted to ask him why he was telling them personal information.  
  
"Although they speak many European languages fluently, that is the most probable reason why he chose German," Magneto explained further.  
  
Kurt turned to Wanda. "Really? You know German?"  
  
Wanda gave him a tiny smile, "Ja."  
  
"Das is groß! Jetzt kann ich jemanden anders haben, Deutsch zu zu sprechen! Wenn Sie nicht bedenken?" Kurt said in excitement. [That is great! Now I can have someone else to speak German to! If you do not mind?]  
  
"Selbstverstädlich nicht," Wanda smiled back. [Of course not]  
  
Pietro interrupted and spoke in an unknown language, "Jel'enedra," he whispered, "Stop this." [Little sister]  
  
"Shh, prala, [brother]" Wanda whispered, walking up to him and placing a finger on his lips. The only people that seemed to understand the language were Kurt and Magneto.  
  
"Tute rakker Romanes? [You speak Romany?]" Kurt asked. Pietro and Wanda turned sharply to stare at Kurt in astonishment. He grinned sheepishly and gave a half-hearted shrug.  
  
"Oh!" Beast exclaimed in sudden understanding, "You're speaking Romany!"  
  
Kurt nodded. Pietro eyes were looking at the ground, his face blank. So was Magneto's.  
  
"Enough of this!" he ordered. "I will discuss with Charles and the other adults about what we are going to do."  
  
Charles nodded. "Yes. Brotherhood, Acolytes, you are free to go to the rec room, or kitchen, or just wander around. You may go now."  
  
The Acolytes were still standing however, and some of the remaining X-Men looked at them in puzzlement. Wanda gave her brother a questioning look as she tugged on his arm, but he stared ahead.  
  
"Leave." Magneto demanded, and then they left.  
  
Magneto sighed and turned back to his old friend. "My Acolytes are not the brightest but they're good fighters. The most intelligent one is Gambit, and he is by far the most useful."  
  
Charles nodded. Logan stared from the corner at Magneto, his hairy arms crossed against his chest, and he chewed on the end of a toothpick. His blue eyes were hard.  
  
"The Brotherhood is welcomed to stay, Magnus," Charles said finally, "they will probably be much safer here than at the boarding house."  
  
Magneto reluctantly nodded in agreement. "Yes, I will tell them so, whether they like it or not. If you would, throw them in the Danger Room for a few minutes? They really need to train."  
  
In his dark corner, Logan smirked. Oh, he would be having fun.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Okies, here's another chapter! Did you like it? Thanks for reviewing: I Am The Anonymous Reviewer, la cour de belles fleurs, rosie, Shao-Archon, sPoOkZ13412, zephyr, Pauline L., and Wind Rider 2000.  
  
bitrona- Yep, it was basically just "You, you, you, you, and YOU" Thanks for reviewing!  
  
You guys rock!  
  
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review! 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Pietro stole my disclaimer. The little shit. Well, anyways, I don't own anything of X-Men except the guy who likes killing people. And the people who are already dead.  
  
Author's Note- Sorry if my use of the Australian accent offends anybody. I write it like that because it's more entertaining for me, and that's how Pyro talks on the show, I know Australians don't actually talk like that. I think I got Gambit's accent pretty good. Also apologize if I misuse Rogue, Kurt, and Colossus's accents. I try my best.  
  
"Let's just say things are going to get wild, and I don't want you to get hurt. Now shove off." Lance Alvers (Avalanche) in 'The Hex-Factor'  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
The Acolytes sat awkwardly with the Brotherhood and the X-Men in the rec room. Scott, being the leader and thinking what he thought was best for his team, immediately threatened the other mutants.  
  
"Listen here," he snarled at them, "If you try anything funny, anything at all, I will personally blow you through a wall."  
  
Pyro just let out his notorious cackle, realizing that the teenager who stood before him rhymed. Gambit smirked and lit up a cigarette and Colossus stood in a corner, his muscular arms crossed against his chest, with a neutral look on his face.  
  
"No smoking in here," Scott hissed at the red-eyed Cajun. Gambit smirked and blew smoke in the teenager's face.  
  
Scott grabbed Gambit's coat collar and pulled him close, "I could kill you, you know."  
  
Gambit nonchalantly pushed Scott away, smirking as he did so. "An' I c'n kill y'. Now tell dis Cajun, would y' tell ol' Wolverine not t' smoke in here?"  
  
"Of course not, he would kill me," Scott crossed his arms and scowled. All the other X-Men were watching, none of them paying attention to Pyro, who had gone and started flicking his lighter at the hem of one of the curtains.  
  
"An' Gambit c'n kill y' jus' as easily, as I said b'fore," he took another drag of the cigarette.  
  
"I can kill you, *Gambit*, remember that," Scott hissed. Jean walked up to him and put a calming hand on his arm.  
  
"But y' won'. Y're not de type. Now, I'm not one f'r killin' but I will if Gambit have to," Gambit drawled, holding open the palm of his hand and snuffing out the cigarette, seeing that there were no ashtrays around.  
  
Scott stared at the other's hand for a moment, his face a shade paler. Gambit smirked and his eyes wondered over to where Pyro was, burning the curtain. He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.  
  
"John!" he barked, using the mutant's given name. Pyro jumped a foot in the air, turning around quickly and hiding the curtain behind his back.  
  
"Wot?" he asked a bit too innocently, sniffing slightly from the smell of smoke.  
  
"Y' snuff dat fire out now, b'fore Gambit blow y' t' bits an' pieces, y' hear?" Gambit warned the pyromaniac. Pyro nodded slightly, turned around and extinguished the fire with his powers.  
  
"You burnt the curtains!" Kitty shrieked, glaring at Pyro. Pyro just shrugged and started looking curiously around the room once again. He didn't seem to have a care in the world. Which was true, unless you took his Zippo lighter away or his flamethrower.  
  
"You get that maniac under control!" Scott ordered, his voice rising.  
  
"Oh, so now y' see fit t' tell me what t' do? Gambit don' like dat. Y' not de boss o' him an' y' never will be. I have a backbone, y' know," Gambit drawled, his Cajun accent getting thicker every time he talked.  
  
"Doesn't seem like it. You're Magneto's lackey. None of you have backbones," Scott snarled, Evan and Kurt were now walking up to him, ready to join the fight. Or in Kurt's case, ready to break up a fight. Colossus had a very angry look on his face, and even Pyro stopped his investigating to stare coldly at Scott.  
  
"An' what do y' call y'self? Y' here an' y' work f'r Xavier. Y' listen blindly t' him, believin' in his peaceful ways. Well, wake up, homme; life's not exactly what y' precious Professor makes it out t' be. Dere ain't a lot o' human out dere dat accepts us now, an' it ain't gonna change, it's gonna get worse. Accept it, Cykes. Y'r Professor isn't pure genius," Gambit's mood darkened. He usually kept cool during arguments but this punk in front of him just irked him so much. "B'sides, all t'ieves need an employer."  
  
Scott backed away from the Cajun in surprise. "You're a thief!"  
  
Gambit casually put his hand in his trench coat and pulled out a dark brown leather wallet. "Y' watch dis more carefully from now on, comprenez?" He said, tossing the wallet back at the leader.  
  
"We don't need some French jackass telling us what to do!" Evan shouted, balling up his fists.  
  
Gambit slowly turned his head to face him, absentmindedly taking out another cigarette and lighting it as he did so.  
  
"Didn' y' mère ever tell y' t' r'spect y' elders?" Gambit asked coolly, raising a handsome eyebrow.  
  
"My what?" Evan asked in slight confusion, although he still looked angry.  
  
"Y'r mother, pup, y'r mother," Gambit snapped impatiently. "An' didn' I jus' say I was Cajun? Don' y' listen?"  
  
"Yeah," Evan muttered quietly, looking at the floor angrily. Then he snapped his head back up, "You can't be that much older than me!"  
  
Gambit shrugged, "Twenty-one, twenty-two, don' know, eit'er one. How old are y'? Fifteen? A good seven years."  
  
"Vhat? Don't know how to count at how old you are?" Laughed Kurt, giving Evan a high-five.  
  
"Lost count 'while ago," Gambit said calmly, letting out another cloud of smoke from the cigarette, "Don' really care. Jus' anot'er year closer t' death."  
  
He snuffed out his second cigarette on his hand. He normally didn't do that, but since there was nothing else to do it on, beside the furniture, he did it on his hand. He'd be damned if put it out on his trench coat.  
  
"Now, y' leave me be, comprenez? Me an' Petey an' Johnny boy here, we take a walk around de grounds, non?" He raised his eyebrows at them, as if waiting for them to protest. But they didn't and he nodded his head to the two other Acolytes and led them out of the rec room, and to the outside.  
  
"That jerk." Evan muttered.  
  
"Hey, you don't know him," Pietro sneered from his spot. "But of course, Daniels, you just want to judge him right away because he's not on your side. And if you hadn't noticed, Sum-ners started the whole thing."  
  
"I could take you anytime Pietro!" shouted Evan, his face growing darker from a flush.  
  
"Not even on your best day," Pietro snarled, then he added quickly, "Slow- mo."  
  
"Ugh, you guys are so immature!" Rogue shouted to all of them, her accent thickening. She jumped up from her seat and bolted out. Scott went to go after her but Jean gave his arm a squeeze.  
  
"She'll be fine, Scott. Just leave her be," she said reassuringly.  
  
Scott looked from Jean to where Rogue exited and to Jean again. Finally, he sighed and said, "You're right. If the Acolytes come near her, she'll suck their brains out."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Rogue trudged through the yard, intent on finding a certain Cajun. She spotted him sitting on a bench near the coy pond, the other Acolytes by him.  
  
"Swamp Rat!" She called loudly to him. He seemed to stiffen slightly, and he inclined his head a little to his right, as if to hear her better.  
  
"Gambit, come ovah here! We need ta talk!" She called out to him again. Gambit slowly stood, turned around and faced her. His face immediately broke into a cocky smirk. Another cigarette was dangling from his lips. He strolled up to her and his smirk grew wider.  
  
"What can dis Cajun do for such a lovely belle?" he asked her in a voice filled with sexuality. He was so close to Rogue that she could smell his scent: cigarettes, cologne, alcohol, and sweat. She found it rather intoxicating, but she quickly cleared her head.  
  
"Ah jus' want ya ta know," she said in a firm voice, "tha' Ah don' follow the Prof's dreams blahndly. Ah follow because Ah believe tha' we have a chance at makin' peace. Ah know there are some tha' hate us, but tha' doesn't mean they all do. Maybe ya'll should reconsider what yoah fahghtin' foah."  
  
Gambit's smirk faded a bit when she was talking. Then suddenly it grew larger, and he took Rogue's gloved hand in his, pulling it just right up to his lips. His eyes looked up at her from his bowed head, and they seemed to spark intently. Rogue found herself not being able to look away.  
  
"At least y' know what y' doin' chere," he whispered huskily, bringing her hand up to his lips, he kissed it tenderly. She pulled it away and the hand slipped out of his grasp.  
  
"Don' touch meh," she whispered.  
  
"Sure t'ing, chere," he whispered, giving her a small sad smile. "But y' shouldn' be so insecure. Dey know bout y'. If dey touch y', it's dere fault."  
  
Rogue licked her lips, turning away from him and started to walk.  
  
"Y'd be beautiful if y' didn' wear so much makeup," Gambit called after her, "Stop tryin' t' hide y'self."  
  
Rogue faltered in her steps slightly, but she kept walking. She felt a few drops of rain hit her face. Walking a little bit faster, she entered the mansion just as it began to pour.  
  
Pulling aside a dark deep red curtain, she peered outside. Colossus and Pyro were starting to walk back towards the mansion, but Gambit remained beside the coy pond, but ultimately she saw him flick a small white object into it before turning around and heading back also.  
  
Colossus walked in, drenched in rain, Pyro followed in shortly afterwards, his fiery blonde hair plastered to his forehead. He shook it like a mane. Colossus gave him an annoyed look from his stormy gray eyes, and he turned to Rogue.  
  
"If you can, please, vould you get a towel?" he asked in a thick accent, "I do not vant to get ze place all vet."  
  
Rogue nodded numbly, heading towards the nearest linen closet. She pulled out three fluffy white towels, one for each Acolyte.  
  
She handed them both one. Colossus dried himself off and then stuck out a large hand to her. Placing her gloved one in his, he shook it.  
  
"Piotr Rasputin. You can call me Peter if it's easier," he introduced himself.  
  
"Rogue," she said as politely as she could. At least this Acolyte didn't seem like a jerk. She looked around at Pyro. He was humming to himself as he vigorously dried his blonde locks with a towel. He stopped and looked up at her, deep blue eyes sparkling in amusement.  
  
"St. John Allardoyce," he offered, "Spelt A-L-L-E-R-D-Y-C-E. Yeah, tha's roight, St. John. Don' ask, moy parents were nutters."  
  
She raised her eyebrows at him in surprise, then smiled slightly. He would have been rather amusing, if he wasn't so annoying.  
  
"Gambit, his name is Remy Lebeau," Colossus, or rather Piotr said.  
  
Rogue nodded, walking back towards the rec room.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
How's this chapter? Nice? Good? Excellent? It's almost 2,000 words, my longest chapter for this story word-wise.  
  
The Hog of Hedges- Thanks for your review. I'm glad you like this story, and that you put it in your favorites. I would have thought the story would be a 7/10 at the most, but hey, an 8's alright. Thanks for your review and I hope you keep R&Ring!  
  
SPoOkZ13412- Do you know how hard it is to type your name? Well, thanks for your review!  
  
Dragon- I'll have to say, you are extremely close. Actually, you're right, but shh... don't tell anybody else! Thanks for your review, I hope you keep up with this!  
  
Also thanks for reviewing- I Am The Anonymous Reviewer, Pauline L., and zephyr. Please keep it up! 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Disclaimer- When will you learn?  
  
Author's Note- Accents are being shamelessly and stereotypically overdone. Sorry if it offends anybody. This also takes place in 1998. Dates will be edited later in chapter two. Oh, and I've noticed 'X-Treme Measures' takes place before 'The Toad, the Witch, and the Wardrobe'. Well, let's just do the old switch-er-oo and say that Evan's not with the Morlocks but Wanda had her memory fixed. Kay? Kay.  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
Tabitha Smith tossed around on her bed, the covers tangled around her limbs.  
  
"No..."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Tabby, sweetie, just do it for Daddy," her father said, leaning in close to her, his breath reeking of alcohol.  
  
"I don't want to..."  
  
"Please?"  
  
"No! I don't want to steal anymore, Daddy!" Tabitha cried, backing into a corner. He backhanded her across the face.  
  
"We need that money, Tabitha!" he hollered. She flinched.  
  
"But Mommy said we didn't need-"  
  
"Well your mother's wrong!" He slapped her again.  
  
"Please stop hitting me," she begged, hugging her knees. He slapped her again. The door opened.  
  
"Stop! How dare you hit her?"  
  
"This... none of your business... woman!"  
  
"It is my business! Stop hitting my daughter you good for nothing drunk!"  
  
"You shouldn't... be talkin'... you can't keep away from those drugs..."  
  
"Stop! Please! Stop Daddy!"  
  
Tabitha screwed her eyes shut. She tried to drown out the fight, but unfortunately her senses seemed to become sharper, and she heard the brawl between her mother and father louder than ever. The thirteen-year old was frightened beyond her wits. Somehow, tears had leaked out of her eyes.  
  
Then it was silent.  
  
She slowly opened her eyes and looked around. The room was dark and the moon shown in from between the small gap in the curtains. There was no sound except for Tabitha's heavy breathing.  
  
Tabitha placed a hand on the wall behind her and slowly pushed herself up in to a standing position. Her breathing slowed a little, but she suddenly felt alert. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, her every senses acute, picking up even the quietest of sounds. Her heart, which had been thumping wildly in her chest, gradually began to slow down.  
  
She looked around the room. It was the room she was just in, where her parents were fighting. Spotting a mirror across the room, she walked to it and peered at her reflection.  
  
A frightened fifteen-year old looked back at her and not a thirteen-year old. This was not a memory. Her face looked paler than it should be. She thought it was the reflection from the moon, making her face glow in the dark.  
  
Looking into the mirror, Tabitha noticed that the door to the room was open, showing a reflection of the living room. Furniture had been cluttered everywhere, the window was open and cracked; the tattered curtain blew from a soft wind. It was an eerie sight, and it gave Boom-Boom chills.  
  
She walked to another side of the room, where the window was. This window was also cracked, and the curtains had been ripped. Tabitha gazed out of it, seeing her dumpy neighborhood from her Virginian home. Her reflection shown in the window. She turned her head to her left and faced the mirror again. Something moved.  
  
Her heart was beating wildly again, and her breathing quickened. Her wide eyes stared at the mirror and she started to back away from it. It had been a black figure, hidden in the shadows and then moved out into a small and cramped hallway.  
  
She had to get out of there!  
  
She ran as stealthily as she could to the front door. The knob didn't move. It was locked. Biting back a sob, Tabby looked around, getting the feeling that she was being stared at.  
  
She walked towards the hallway, searching wildly for the figure that had moved.  
  
There was nothing there. She kept walking, through the kitchen, where the chairs were upturned and rotten and spoiled food littered the floor and counters. A gigantic rat ran for cover.  
  
She stood there in the center of the kitchen for a moment, breathing heavily, mist coming from her mouth.  
  
Something grabbed her from behind, and she screamed.  
  
Slamming her elbow into the thing's gut, she stomped on his foot and began to run away again when he released his grip.  
  
It grabbed her wrist, and she swung it around, her wrist freeing from his grasp. She gasped.  
  
"Daddy...?" she whispered in shock. He grinned. Tabitha shivered again.  
  
"Whatsa matter, baby?" he taunted, "Why would you hit your own father?"  
  
She punched him in the jaw. He glared at her, raising his right hand up and Tabitha's eyes widened as she realized what he had been holding for the first time.  
  
A butcher knife.  
  
Tabitha screamed and ran again, her father chasing her with his arm still raised.  
  
Sometimes, out of fear, you feel a burst of energy and you run as fast as you can. And many times also, it hardly lasts and you feel yourself sag down as if your arms were lead. Or, your not thinking clearly and you trip over your own feet. That is exactly what Tabitha Smith did.  
  
She landed flat on her face. Twisting her body around to see where her father was, her eyes widened when she saw that he was bringing his arm down, hand clamped tightly around the handle of the knife.  
  
Tabby immediately rolled to her left, went into a crouching position and swung her foot out to trip her father. He gave a surprised yell, and fell flat on his back. Tabitha, wasting no time, quickly scrambled up to her feet and began running.  
  
Through doors, jumping over furniture, Tabby escaped.  
  
She stopped abruptly in a room she did not recognize. The walls were covered with mirrors. She backed in to the wall and slid down, moving one of the mirrors slightly.  
  
Something gripped her shoulder. Her head snapped to her left to see a sickly greenish-gray arm coming out of the mirror, giving her shoulder a death grip.  
  
It started shaking her.  
  
The door to the mirror-room slammed open and her father stood there, blood dripping out of his mouth, the knife raised in his hand. He gave her a sickening smile before stepping forward. He licked the blood from his lips, as if he were hungry.  
  
He advanced forward, and the arm from the mirror was still shaking Tabby violently. She tried to escape but the hand would not let go.  
  
"Your mine, Tabitha," he whispered, but it was not her father's voice. It was cold and eerie and sent shivers down her spine.  
  
Her father halted just before her, and she raised her brown eyes to him just as he raised his knife. He gave her a wicked grin just as he brought it down and Tabitha Smith let out a blood-curdling scream.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" Tabitha bolted upright in her bed.  
  
Her sheets had been tangled around her legs, sweat laced her whole body, her pillow had been tossed on the floor during her tossing and turning, and a hand gripped her shoulder, which had just abruptly stopped shaking her.  
  
Tabitha turned her head to see Amara's concerned stare. She broke down into sobs. Small arms wrapped around her in a soothing hug and started to rock back and forth.  
  
"What happened?" The alert voice of their fearless leader came from the doorway. Scott spotted the both of them, and said quietly, "I'll go get the Professor."  
  
He left, but only to be replaced by a few more New Recruits, X-Men, and even some of the Brotherhood (who had not been happy when ordered to stay there for the time being).  
  
"By Goddess, what happened?" Ororo came up, an elegant lilac purple robe covering her nightgown.  
  
"Tabitha had a dream," Amara whispered. Ororo paled slightly, then nodded. She then walked over to the bed and gingerly sat on it, rubbing circles on Tabitha's back.  
  
Pietro suddenly appeared at the foot of the bed, his icy eyes wide with fright. His face was paler than usual. "Did you hear it? Did you hear the voice?" he asked, his words full of panic.  
  
The tears had stopped now, and Tabitha had started to concentrate on controlling her heartbeat and breathing. She glanced at Pietro, who looked so terrified she couldn't face him. Her eyes moved to the doorway of Amara's bedroom, where a crowd of mutants was standing.  
  
They parted suddenly, and the Professor wheeled in; Hank McCoy, Scott, and Jean right behind him.  
  
"All right guys, come on, go back to bed!" Jean ordered the students, and they grumbled, too tired to protest. Yawning, they trudged back to their respective bedrooms. Except for Pietro.  
  
"Did you hear it, Boom-Boom? Did you hear the voice? Didyouhearit? Didyouhearit?" He asked again, his body shaking now with trepidation.  
  
Somehow, knowing what he was talking about, she slowly nodded. He gave a cry and practically flew back away from her, a bead of sweat suddenly forming on his brow. His breathing became labored, and he looked around the room as if a mad-axe man was just about to pop out of the shadows and behead him. He let out a whimper and ran out of the room in a gust of wind. In the distance, a door slammed shut.  
  
The Professor, who had been staring at Pietro, now turned to Tabitha.  
  
"Tabby, I need you to tell me what happened," he asked gently. Tabby shook her head violently, a sudden look of fear showing in her eyes.  
  
"I don't- I don't want to-to talk about it," she shivered, and then rested her forehead against her knees.  
  
"Could I see?" Charles asked, wheeling in closer to the bed. She nodded.  
  
Charles leaned forward, resting his fingertips on her temple, and searched. He watched as the dream replayed before him, he heard, "You're mine, Tabitha". He assumed it was the voice Pietro had been asking frantically about.  
  
He removed his fingers from her temple, sighed, and wheeled back a bit away from the bed. He steepled his hands, and stared at the blonde intently.  
  
"That...was disturbing. Just like Pietro's. This cannot last." He said. "Try to go back to sleep for now, Tabby. I doubt he will come again."  
  
Tabitha, who had no desire at all to ever sleep again, nodded, and lay back down, curling up into a ball. Amara gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and then went back across the room to her own full size bed.  
  
Ororo gave Tabitha a pat, before rising and exiting, followed by the Professor, Beast, Scott and Jean.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
*Sighs* The dream didn't exactly come out the way I pictured it but I guess it will have to do. Sorry for the late update. Well, late for me. I hope they don't cut down Boom-Boom's scream to "AH!"  
  
The Hog of Hedges- Ah, yeah, sorry about the accent. I'll tone it down. It's just that I could read it fine, but I'll tone them down anyways. I'll fix that koi thing later. Thanks for your review!  
  
bitrona- Sub categories? Oh, are those the things that say "Horror" and "Angst" and stuff like that? Well, I think I had drama instead of angst, but I put in angst instead because it gets...angstier. But it's still a horror. Oh, there's a little romance, but that's really between Scott and Jean and maybe Kitty and Lance. A little flirting from the Cajun...That was just Remy being his usual flirtatious self. Thanks for your review!  
  
Also thanks for reviewing- soulstress, zephyr, Pauline L., Wind Rider 2000, I Am The Anonymous Reviewer, sPoOkZ13412, and rosie. Sorry if I miss anybody!  
  
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review! 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Disclaimer- "I wanna fluff your garfield, if you know what I mean." "No, I don't."  
  
Chapter Thirteen  
  
Foyer, super evil mutant, was exhausted. But he was also restless. He needed to kill somebody, but he also wanted to haunt them in their nightmares before he got to the actual bloodshed. He needed to give them their nightmares much quicker...  
  
There was no other way. Back when he killed the three teenage boys, he had brought them all into the same dream. It was thoroughly and utterly exhausting, but it was worth it in the end!  
  
He had tried to enter the minds of that gothic looking girl with the white stripes in her hair, and the Cajun with the red eyes, the bald man in the wheelchair, the redheaded teenager. He tried and he had failed. They all had strong mental blocks, and Foyer wondered if they were all telepaths.  
  
But so far, he only had two victims to his nightmares. Two lousy victims. Tomorrow night, he would try more than one person. Then, he would see whom to choose.  
  
But Clarence Foyer was tired, and he did what he needed most. Collapsed in a bed and fell into a deep sleep. Later, he would check on them.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Charles massaged his temples wearily, after explaining to his one-time friend about Miss Smith's dream.  
  
Magneto stroked his chin thoughtfully, his brow furrowed.  
  
"So, Charles, I guess this mutant's becoming more of a threat than I thought," he stated, "And he knows of your X-Men."  
  
"Yes," Charles sighed, rubbing the back of his scalp.  
  
"So we need to keep a better watch on hi-Pyro, stop that," Magneto snapped in annoyance at the pyromaniac that stood behind him, flicking his lighter open and then closing it again. He hastily put the said lighter in his pocket.  
  
"I never thought I'd be saying this, but," Magneto began, glancing at Xavier, "but I guess it's well that we have three telepaths on our side."  
  
Charles raised his eyebrow slightly.  
  
"I mean, we could find out what he's up to. Search for him. Have an advantage..." he trailed off.  
  
Charles sighed, "Yes, I suppose you are right, Magnus."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Magneto, once known as a man named Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, stood in the gazebo at the Xavier's Institute For Gifted Youngsters. Looking out into the starry night, Magneto slowly took off his helmet, resting it on the ledge, his hand placed on top of it. The soft wind felt cool and soothing against his face, ruffling his soft-white hair slightly. He remembered when things were so simple, when he and Charles were still great friends. When he sat in front of the fire with his wife at his side, their daughter playing with her toys on the floor in front of them.  
  
When did life suddenly become so much more different?  
  
Magneto sighed, memories flooding through his mind. Images that he had buried in the back of his head a long time ago, resurfaced.  
  
'Poppa! I'm burning! It hurts!'  
  
'You're not the man I married! What have you done with my husband?'  
  
'Oh, Magda...'  
  
'Sweet, sweet, little Anya. No more. No more 'poppa' no more...Anya... they will pay...they will all pay...my little Anya..."  
  
'Schneller! Schneller! Dreckige Juden!' [1]  
  
'I can't breath!'  
  
'Father! Father! Don't leave me here!'  
  
'Remember, Jew scum, you wash yourself with the flesh of your parents...'  
  
'Have you seen my wife?'  
  
'I'm suffocating!'  
  
'She's gone, no more, burned. Burned. They burned her. They burned my daughter. My poor, sweet little Anya...'  
  
'Father! Father!'  
  
Magneto gasped and shook his head to clear his head of the voices. Where had all that come from? The echo of Wanda's voice as she pleaded with him to not leave her at the asylum shook him. He scanned around the area, watching as a crow flew off into the dark, velvety black sky.  
  
"What on Earth was all that about?" he asked to himself, taking his helmet and slipping it back over his head. He exited the gazebo and walked briskly towards the mansion to collect his Acolytes so they can leave.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Right as Magneto was about to exit the mansion with his Acolytes and head to the metal transportation balls, Charles stopped him.  
  
"Magnus, I sensed something before you walked in, when you were standing out by the gazebo," Charles said, giving him a pointed look. Magneto returned the look with a glare that said, "Don't say a word"  
  
Magneto turned towards the door, only to be interrupted again.  
  
"Fa- uh, Sir!" his son called from behind him, and Magneto turned, not surprised to find Pietro standing just barely two inches away from him. His son backed up a little bit.  
  
"Uh, you're heading out to those, moving metal bubble things?" he asked. Magneto narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Metal spherical transportation devices," Magneto corrected curtly.  
  
"Uh, yeah, well," Pietro fidgeted slightly, "So, can we, the Brotherhood, we can go back to the house now, right?"  
  
"No," he answered, "You will stay here at least another day unless it is not alright with Professor Xavier." He met Charles's eyes. The telepath nodded.  
  
"Charles, I want you to inform me if you find out anything before our meeting tomorrow," Magneto said, finally leaving.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The X-Men, New Recruits, and the Brotherhood all sat at the dining room table, eating breakfast. The Brotherhood made sure that they stayed as far away from the X-Men as possible, choosing seats together at the far end of the table. Dark glares were exchanged throughout breakfast.  
  
Charles sat at the head of the table, Logan at his left, Beast at Logan's left, and Storm at Charles's right. They tried not to make things too awkward for the Brotherhood boys (and one girl), suggesting that they should join in the games, Danger Room sessions, or swimming in the pool, if there was absolutely nothing to do. They flat out refused.  
  
"Hey, uh, Lance," Kitty, said, appearing behind the rock tumbler after phasing up the floor. Lance turned around, chewing on a piece of sausage. He swallowed.  
  
"Hey, Kitty," he said back. She looked a little nervous.  
  
"Uh, if you want, you wanna, like, go to the mall or a movie later or something?" she asked, blushing slightly.  
  
"Sure," he grumbled, turning back to the table. Hadn't it been Kitty who had embarrassed him? Wasn't it Kitty who had always called him a 'hood', as if he hadn't been good enough for her? 'Be as neutral as possible,' Lance thought, 'Do not show that you're secretly excited inside. Shows vulnerability.'  
  
Kitty looked flustered, but she just phased through the floor, feeling slightly humiliated.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sorry for the terribly short chapter. I'm having a little trouble with this story and a few others. But, I hope this is better than nothing. Explains a teeny bit about what Foyer's doing at the moment. Which is, sleeping, or maybe spying. Read carefully. Not my best, but it will have to do.  
  
Some of the little flashbacks Magneto was having I took from my story, "Blood is Thicker Than Water"  
  
[1] Schneller! Schneller! Dreckige Juden! – Faster! Faster! Dirty Jews!  
  
SPoOkZ13412- Thanks for the review  
  
Dreama- Jean won't be able to have a dream because of mental blocks. Same with the Professor, Mastermind, Rogue, and Gambit. But I don't always do worst fears, sometimes it's worst memories, or both combined. But in the comics, when Jean was little, she witnessed her best friend get hit by a car and die. I would say that is one of her worst memories, and her worst fear would probably be something happening to Scott. Thanks for your review!  
  
La cour de belles fleurs- Thanks for reviewing.  
  
The Hog of Hedges- That's okay, everybody's cranky once in a while. I'm known in my house to be hotheaded, which isn't really a good thing. Glad you liked Tabby's dream. Now, keep in mind that everybody who has a dream isn't necessarily going to kick the bucket. But whoever dies WILL have had a dream, obviously. Foyer's just trying to get as many people in as he can before he wants to kill 'em. But anyhoo, hope this chapter's not too much of a disappointment, because I'm not exactly happy with it. But in order for me to write another good chapter, I have to finish the not-as-great one and post it. Thanks for your review!  
  
I Am The Anonymous Reviewer- Thanks for the review  
  
Pauline L.- Yeah, I thought the dream was okay. Not the greatest, but I liked it. Thanks for your review!  
  
Wind Rider 2000- Thanks  
  
Crazyspaceystracey- Wanda's going to have a dream, don't worry. Except, lets just say that it isn't going to be as...nice as the others. When you read it, you'll know what I mean. Thanks for the review! 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Disclaimer- "Rule number. You do not speak about Fight Club."  
  
Author's Note- This one might be a little bit disturbing, but not bad enough not to be above a PG-13 rating.  
  
Chapter Fourteen  
  
Magnus stumbled, his eyes screwed shut and his hand clutching his head from a migraine. Slowly, he opened his blue eyes and saw fog and dark, gray smoke. The smoke went in his nostrils to his lungs, and he coughed violently. Something foul smelling filled the air, and he could feel the bile rising in his throat.  
  
It smelt like burnt flesh.  
  
He looked around him in horror, noticing the barbed wire and a few thin bodies scattered in various places. A small figure ran past him and Magnus gasped slightly, looking after the receding figure. He took a step towards the direction it went in but then stopped, slightly confused.  
  
"Come on, mister, you do not want them to catch you, do you?" Something tugged at his hand and Magnus jumped, taken by surprised. Startled, he looked around for the source of the voice, and then spotted it right in front of him. A small, skinny boy with blue eyes and light brown hair just coming in from a scalp that had been shaven clean a while ago stood there.  
  
It was he. It was a younger version of him! Dressed in a tattered striped uniform with the canary yellow Star of David sewn onto the left breast, he scowled at his adult self.  
  
"Come on!" Young Erik hissed impatiently, tugging on his hand harder and leading him away from the area that they were in. Magnus's feet seemed to have a mind of their own, because much to Magnus's horror and dismay, they followed the younger version of himself.  
  
The boy led him to a clearing, where the mud was slick and wet and freezing. Many skinny and shaven people walked by in a daze and almost mechanically. Some were limping, some were weeping, and Magnus winced as he saw one of them slit their own throat.  
  
"We will be safe here," Erik assured him, patting the wet and cold ground next to him as he sat down. Magnus reluctantly sat next to him.  
  
"What is this place?" Magnus whispered, eyeing everybody that passed.  
  
Erik looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean what is this place?" he shook his head and rolled his eyes, "You must be one of the amnesiac ones. This is Bergen-Belsen, the death camp. I am surprised your head has not been shaven. Look! You have a full head of thick hair! You look familiar."  
  
"May I take a look around?" Magnus asked Erik, slowly rising to a stand. Erik nodded, standing up too.  
  
"I will go with you," he said, "If you truly are an amnesiac, you'll need protection. I can do that. I protect the girl over there." He pointed to a girl who was about six, and Magnus squinted at her to see her better. Slowly, he walked towards her and he gasped at what he saw.  
  
The girl had light brown hair and looked small and delicate, but upon closer inspection he saw that three-quarters of her body was burnt severely and her face looked like it held an immortal pain. She looked up, revealing hazel eyes.  
  
"Poppa?" the whisper came out choked. With joy or pain, he did not know.  
  
He gasped quietly in horror and backed up a few steps, eyes wide and frightened. She stood up slowly, her arms raising and reaching to him for a hug.  
  
"Poppa?" she choked again, "Please Poppa, I hurt."  
  
He dropped to his knees, a gurgling noise escaping his throat. She stumbled towards him, seemingly unable to walk properly.  
  
"Please Poppa, I hurt. It burns," she sobbed, still reaching out to him. She collapsed into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He shook violently, not daring to believe.  
  
"Anya?" he whispered to her finally, slowly encircling his arms around her petite and delicate form, holding her tightly to him.  
  
She let out a loud, long, blood-curdling scream of agony.  
  
He jumped and released her on instinct, and she backed away quickly.  
  
"Poppa! Poppa, help me!" she screamed. He reached out to her, to protect her. She reached her hand out to him but the screaming grew louder and more agonized as she threw her head back-  
  
and was engulfed in flames.  
  
Magnus screamed, futilely reaching out to save her.  
  
She still howled, still miraculously alive.  
  
And living through a painful torture.  
  
Then, the screaming stopped, and she fell to the ground, the flames immediately extinguished.  
  
Magnus crawled to her, small and short dry sobs escaping from his mouth every few seconds. He reached out to her.  
  
She crumpled into a pile of dust just as his hand was inches from her corpse. A light breeze came, sending the remains of his daughter away in the wind.  
  
He wailed, the tears rolling down his now soot-covered face. A hand rested on his shoulder.  
  
"She had been calling for her poppa for about seventeen years. Some part of her always started on fire, but we put it out quick enough." Erik said sadly, "She was sweet. I liked her. Come on, I'll show you around."  
  
Magnus, reluctantly climbed to his feet and followed, sobs racking through body.  
  
Magnus watched the others around him, now recognizing some of the faces around him. Gambit walked by slowly, something branded in the middle of his forehead. He had the number '12' branded on the back of his neck. His hair had been shaven also, and the only reason Magnus recognized him was because of his unique eyes; red irises over black sclera.  
  
They stopped close to another figure and Magnus gasped at what he saw. Pietro was there, his white hair growing back, his blue eyes empty. A large 'M' had been burned on to his forehead, some blood dripping from it and down the length of his crooked nose (he wondered slightly for a moment why it was crooked, because Pietro's nose was straight). He was holding a small, dirty, and torn burlap sack in his hand, a few lumps in it. In his right hand was a rotting potato, already looking like it was soft and mushy.  
  
A figure came barreling into Pietro, knocking him into the mud. They rolled around a bit, fighting over the sack. Gasps and grunts and small, frustrated screams came from them both, and when Magnus caught a glimpse of the attacker's face, he recognized whom it was. Pyro.  
  
Pietro lay on top of the sack, trying to pry Pyro's fingers off from his neck. He gasped and dug his nails into the Australian's flesh. Pyro let out a howl of agony and released Pietro's throat, examining the bleeding cuts where the nails had dug in. Pietro took the distraction of the other man as an opportunity and swiped at his face. Pyro growled and dove his hands again for the speedster's throat, only to have Pietro grab on to his wrists. Pyro forced his hands to lower, and he began to claw and Pietro's face, attempting to injure the man to distraction. Pietro let out a feral growl, releasing Pyro's left hand and with his right he searched for something to aid him. Pyro's fingers immediately locked around Pietro's throat once again. Blood filled both of their mouths, now staining their teeth red. Small, bleeding cuts covered their faces. Pietro grabbed something, and quickly brought it up and into Pyro's throat.  
  
Magnus's eyes widened in horror as he watched his son murder one of his friends. Pietro pushed the jagged and pointed rock that he had in his hand further into Pyro's throat. John gurgled for a moment, blue eyes widened in shock, and then, the blonde fell forward, his weight landing on top Pietro's body.  
  
Pietro Maximoff had killed St. John Allerdyce.  
  
Breathing hard, Pietro rolled out from under John, grabbing the sack of what were presumably potatoes in his hand, and he ran. Magnus followed him, and Erik did too.  
  
Pietro stopped at a figure that was huddled in a dark, dank corner, with a thin blanket filled with holes. Pietro sat down next to the figure, took one end of the blanket, and wrapped it around his thin and trembling shoulders. Placing the sack between them, he opened it, and the both of them took out a rotten potato and split it between themselves. Magnus noticed that the huddled figure received the bigger half.  
  
The huddled figure was Wanda.  
  
"He usually gets the food for the both of them," Erik whispered quietly from beside Magnus, "If he has to kill to feed her, he will. But he'll share with the little kids sometimes too, giving them his share. But he never, ever, ever lets anyone eat her food. He kills them."  
  
Wanda turned to her brother, wiping the trail of blood off of his chin with her thumb. He had finished his half (it had been more of a quarter) of his potato and had fallen asleep.  
  
Magnus stared as Wanda wrapped her arms around him, bringing his shivering form closer to her shivering form, so that their body heat combined might be able to warm them up for the night. He was caked in mud, and his lips were tinted blue.  
  
"Come," whispered Erik, tugging on his hand. "You have to get the mark, if you don't they kill you."  
  
Magnus looked at his younger self with a befuddled expression on his face. Erik stopped suddenly, grabbed his left arm and forced the sleeve up.  
  
"You already have a mark! You are a Jew! Or are you a Gypsy? Or perhaps a Jehovah Witness?" he whispered in surprise, and then gasp, "You have the same numbers as me! How is that?"  
  
"I am a Jew," Magnus whispered, confused when Erik started pulling him again. "I already have a mark, where are we going?"  
  
"You have not the mark they want. You are a mutant. You need the mutant mark." Erik said, bringing him to a line of mutants, under the guard of S.S. officers. Trask was off to the side, observing with satisfaction. Magnus's brow furrowed. Trask wasn't alive during the Holocaust, was he? But then, neither was Pietro or Wanda, or Anya for that matter. Something was not right.  
  
The next mutant in line stepped up, beaten in the back with a club to hurry him up. Magnus recognized him as Bobby Drake, or Iceman.  
  
He already had the 'M' burned into his forehead, but they took the brand again, making it white-hot, and then pressed it into the already scarred tissue of the young man's flesh. He screamed, trying to pull away, but the one with the brand pushed harder, and then finally, and slowly, he pulled it away, tearing a bit of the flesh with it. The smell of the burnt skin was putrid and a few promptly threw up. Even a few of the officers were green in the face. Magnus swallowed what had risen in his throat.  
  
'Why am I standing here?' he suddenly thought, looking around swiftly. Something definitely was not right.  
  
It is a dream! He realized immediately. He had been stupid not to see it before!  
  
"It's a dream!" He said out loud now. Erik looked up at him in wonder.  
  
"What sir?" he asked, a little frightened.  
  
"This is a dream!" he said again, now walking away from everybody. Some followed. Magnus turned around, pushing them back with his magnetic powers.  
  
"Leave me be!" he bellowed, "Can't you see you have caused me enough agony already?! Leave me be!"  
  
"Sir!" Erik cried, grabbing hold of Magnus's arm, tears in his eyes. "Please sir, they'll kill you!"  
  
"Run, Erik," Magnus told him, shaking his arm out of the boy's grip.  
  
"What? Sir, how do you know my name?" Erik asked, involuntarily taking a small step back.  
  
Magnus knelt in front of him, and cupped the boy's face in his hands. "I am you. The little girl was my deceased daughter. The two huddled mutants were my young twin son and daughter. I am you. You are but a figment of my dream. Run."  
  
Erik turned and ran. He bumped right into Trask. Erik melted at his feet, screaming in agony.  
  
Trask turned to him. Black eyes were glinting with malicious glee, his mouth twisted into a demented smirk. He started walking towards Magnus.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"ARRRGGHHH!" Magnus yelled as he flung whomever it was that was shaking his shoulder into the wall with his powers.  
  
It was Mastermind.  
  
"I am sorry, my Lord Magneto, but your dreams were disturbing mine." Jason apologized.  
  
"Did you see?" Magneto asked. Jason nodded slightly.  
  
"Only close to the end, sir." He said.  
  
"I obviously have to inform Xavier then," Magnus sighed, rubbing a weary hand over his face. "I do not get dreams like that. Not in years."  
  
"Are you going back to sleep, sir?" Jason asked.  
  
"It does not concern you with what I do or do not do, Mastermind," Magnus said coldly. "But if you did not have some form of telepathy, I probably would have been dead."  
  
Jason took that as thanks and nodded his head to Magneto.  
  
"Then I will sleep again, sir, on your leave." He said, his head bowed. Magneto nodded. Jason silently left.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
My proudest chapter for this story to date. In my opinion, of course. I don't have time to reply to all, but thanks to all who reviewed! Won't post next chapter until I get 90 reviews!  
  
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review! 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Disclaimer- "Blueberries! Yes! Oh, this is better than SEX!"  
  
Chapter Fifteen  
  
Two weeks passed since the last suspicious dream. Nobody knew what was going to happen, and nobody wanted to know. Everybody in the institute was frightened. Although none more so than the Professor.  
  
"It seems that telepaths cannot go into the dreamer's mind to stop the dream," he told the adults present: Logan, Ororo, Beast, and Magneto. "It seems that he...or she has put a mental block on the dreamer so we can't enter the mind to stop it, but we could sense, and even see the nightmare they are having."  
  
Hank rubbed his chin. "Intriguing. Magneto, you said Mastermind woke you up in the middle of the nightmare you had?"  
  
Magneto nodded, his helmet ever present on his head. He had refused to take it off since he had the horrible nightmare that still sent shivers down his spine.  
  
"Magnus, did he use your fears on you?" Charles asked. Magneto glared at him for a minute then sighed, nodding his head.  
  
"Not so much as my fears, but my...weaknesses." He muttered.  
  
Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, a toothpick dangling from his mouth. "So, the buckethead has a weakness now, does he?" he growled almost triumphantly.  
  
Magneto's glowing eyes narrowed from the darkness of his helmet. "Everybody has a weakness, Wolverine. Some people just choose not to show it." He turned back to Charles. "Alas, the weaknesses he used for me were from my past. My daughter..." he swallowed. "And concentration camps. My guide in my dream was a concentration camp inmate. An eleven-year old version of myself."  
  
Charles's eyes widened slightly before they returned to their normal shape. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his wheelchair. "Now we know some bits about our, well, let's say predator for now."  
  
(Scene Change)  
  
Lance sat in the grass next to his most favorite person in the world: Kitty. They were sitting in a comfortable silence. She was staring at the sky; he was ripping off the yellow part of the dandelions that grew on their lawn. Nothing could ruin the perfect moment.  
  
Except for a certain speed demon that he sometimes would love to wring his hands around his neck.  
  
"Hello lovers," he winked, striding up to them. Without invitation, he sat down right in front of them. Lance gave him his best threatening glare, which of course Pietro ignored. He looked rather tired, but you wouldn't think he was with all the energy he was displaying.  
  
"What are the two lovebirds doing?" he asked in a falsely and very annoyingly cheerful voice.  
  
"None of your damn business, now go bother somebody else," Lance growled.  
  
"Oh, but I don't want to," Pietro said, tugging at the grass beneath his fingers. "I just want to sit here and relax."  
  
"Can't you go sit and relax somewhere else?" Lance said tensely.  
  
"Nope, nope, nope, nope," the speedster grinned. "I want to see what you two are doing."  
  
"We're not doing anything, Pietro," Kitty said, glaring at the white-haired teenager in front of her.  
  
"Would've fooled me," Pietro retorted. Then, his face split into an evil (at least it looked evil to Lance) grin and he started singing:  
  
"Kitty and Lance, sitting in a tree, F-U-C-" Lance quickly jumped forward and clamped a hand over Pietro's mouth, who still was singing, although it was muffled. "Hm-hm-hm-hm."  
  
Then he sped away.  
  
Lance sighed in relief. He turned to Kitty to apologize. "Sorry, Kitty, Pietro could be a real jerk sometimes."  
  
"Really, I haven't noticed," she said dryly.  
  
"FIRST COMES LOVE! THEN COMES MARRIAGE! THEN COMES A BABY IN A BABY CARRIAGE!" They heard him shouting across the yard.  
  
Lance was seriously contemplating smothering the annoying prick with a pillow in his sleep. Kitty huffed and stood up, walking angrily towards the mansion.  
  
"Kitty wait!" Lance begged, going after her. Distantly, he heard Pietro's laughter. He decided he was going to throttle Pietro instead of smothering him with a pillow.  
  
"Hey, Lance!" Pietro yelled, his hands cupping around his mouth so the sound carried. "What's been crawling up your girlfriend's ass lately?"  
  
Lance gave him a very rude hand gesture and went after Kitty to apologize for Pietro, yet again.  
  
'Kitty must be avoiding me,' Lance thought after searching for her for twenty minutes without a single sign or clue to where she might be. Pietro had utterly ruined his day and nothing could make it any worse.  
  
Not watching where he was going, he bumped into someone. And that someone was a person he wanted to see less than Pietro.  
  
He was wrong, the day could get worse.  
  
"Summers." He greeted coldly.  
  
"Alvers." Scott nodded back. Behind his sunglasses, Scott's eyes narrowed. "Listen, Alvers," he said, "you stay away from Kitty. You don't deserve her. I've been telling her that she needs to stay away from you and that you've been trouble ever since you came to Bayville. Keep away from Kitty."  
  
Lance rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "No, you listen, Summers. I haven't done anything to harm Kitty, and I never will. You need to mind your own fricken business, because the relationship between Kitty and me has nothing to do with you. Now leave me alone, Summers, you just made my day worse."  
  
Angrily, Lance brushed past Scott, still in search for Kitty.  
  
He found her in the rec room. He had checked there before, but she hadn't been in there when he looked. He walked up to her and sat across from her. Rogue sat next to her flicking through the channels on the big-screen TV.  
  
"Kitty, look, I'm sorry about Pietro," he said, "again. He's a jerk and likes to do stuff like that; I don't even know why I'm friends with him. Actually, I don't know why he's even my best friend. We just are. But I'll tell him to stop harassing you, and he'll move on to somebody else...Okay?"  
  
Kitty turned her gaze from the television and to him. His brown eyes looked sincere, and she nodded solemnly, still not happy about Pietro. Then she sighed.  
  
"I actually shouldn't even be this mad," Kitty confessed, "It wasn't even that big of a deal. I guess I'm just stressed because of this whole mutant trying to attack our dreams thing. It's like, straining everybody's nerves."  
  
"Yeah," Lance agreed, "I really guess it is. People are afraid to fall asleep. Pietro hardly sleeps at all. I mean, what the fuck- sorry, what the hell is wrong with this guy? Why does he want to bother us?"  
  
"Why would he want to bother anybody," Kitty said darkly.  
  
"People all have a sadistic side," Rogue said, joining into their conversation.  
  
Kitty shook her head. "Not like this."  
  
- - - - - - - - -  
  
Yes, short chapter, I know. But it's over a thousand words, and I always make them that way. Plus I just needed to get a chapter out of the way so I could get the story moving along. I wrote down what's going to happen in the later chapters while I was on vacation, so writing might be easier. No shout-outs today.  
  
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review! 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Disclaimer- Don't own.

Author's Note- Sorry for the late update. I'll try to do better next time. Oh, and last chapter sucked, sorry for that too. Evan torture coming up to make up for the lack of updates.

If you can guess what movie is in this chapter, I'll give you...well I'll give you something, but it'll be good.

Chapter Sixteen

Tensions were running high, and tempers were about to be lost. It had been a miracle the X-Men and the Brotherhood had lived together for a few days without somebody getting seriously injured at the very least. It hadn't been in harmony, but at least they hadn't been trying to throttle each other every timed they bumped in to each other.

Until now.

"Watch where you're going, X-Geek!" Toad snarled as Kitty brushed against him, much by accident. Kitty looked at him in disgust, and then at her crisp, pink sweater.

"Great, now I have to wash this again, Toad," she said, "You got your slime all over it."

"Maybe you should watch where the hell you're going!" Toad shouted, "and then you wouldn't _get _slime all over you're fricken sweater!"

Kitty harrumphed and stomped away angrily, her arms stiff at her sides and her fists clenched.

Toad sneered. "Gee, even _Pietro's _nicer than this lot."

"Do mine ears deceive me?" Toad had to struggle to keep his balance as an unexpected gust of wind nearly toppled him over. Pietro stood in front of him, his arms crossed and a wicked grin spread across his facial features. "Did I just hear a compliment about me coming from _toi_?"

"Toi? What the hell is 'toi'?" Toad asked, staring at the white-haired teenager standing in front of him.

"It's French for 'you', ass-clown," Pietro said calmly, leaning his right shoulder against the wall, facing Toad. "I need to ask you a favor."

Toad's eyebrow rose to his hairline. "Oh?"

Pietro gave him a sort of secret smirk. He beckoned Toad closer with his index finger. Cautiously, Toad took a few hesitant steps forward.

"It involves a certain porcupine-freak and laxatives," Pietro said, suddenly standing straight, his tone suddenly very business-like.

Toad looked very interested now. "Oh?"

"Yes," Pietro's smirk was very evil now, and a manic gleam entered the blue orbs of his eyes, "Yes...the jerk has a date tonight, and I want to make it as uncomfortable as possible." He suddenly looked very downcast while studying his fingernails. "Unfortunately, I, also, have a date and I don't want to miss it." He slipped a bottle into Toad's hands. "Slip this in his food for me, will you? I want it to be closer to his date so it'll last longer. If you can, take a picture."

Toad studied the bottle. "Pietro, this is very strong stuff."

Pietro huffed. "Of course it is! Do you think I'll do this job only half-assed? I only just found out where he's going, and I plan on being there! But I don't want to waste _all_ my precious time with a lady spying on Daniels! Not when I could get some nookie! All you have to do is slip that in his food. Put three in...kinda mash it up if you can. Less noticeable."

A large grin crossed Toad's face. "Alrighty. But remember you owe me something for this later!"

Pietro looked irritated for a moment. "Isn't the knowledge that Daniels will be shitting his brains out enough?!"

Toad shrugged, started whistling, and brushed past Pietro.

"Hey! Remember to do that!" Pietro called after him. Toad only whistled louder.

_**Later at dinner time...**_

"Where's Quicksilver?" Scott asked after surveying the dining room table. Most of the Brotherhood ignored him, the other X-Men shrugged, and most of the New Recruits hadn't even heard him.

Lance looked up and glared at Scott. "Why do you care so much, Summers? It's really none of your business where Pietro is or isn't."

Scott gave him a sour look from behind his goggles. "I'm just wondering, Alvers. I don't trust him to be around out alone at the mansion."

Todd rolled his eyes. "Gee, Summers you think Pietro would have a life outside of being'untrustworthy' around the mansion. He's on a date, for your info."

Evan suddenly looked put out. "Aww man! And I was gonna rub it in his face that I have a date and he didn't!"

The Brotherhood (with the exception of Wanda) broke out in a fit of giggles...or sniggers, as they would prefer to have them called. Even Rogue sniggered a bit.

"Pietro's _always _on dates, Porcupine!" Rogue told him, "Everybody knows that!"

Todd said, "Yeah, he can have any woman he wants...Lucky bastard," he looked hopefully at Wanda, "But the only woman _I _want is poopsy-doodle." Wanda grunted in disgust and looked away from him, but not before she slammed his face into his plate of spaghetti using her powers.

"Ow," he muttered painfully into his food. Lifting his face, he took the unused napkin by his plate and started wiping the sauce and stray noodles off of his face.

Evan scowled at his plate. He was not in the mood at the moment. He had a date in a half an hour, Pietro had a date (and Evan had finally hoped that he had a date before him for once), and there was no 'sprinkle' cheese on his spaghetti.

"Toad, pass the Parmesan," he grunted.

A glint suddenly entered Todd's eyes. Nobody noticed except the Professor. "Say 'please'."

Evan growled. "_Please_," he gritted out through clenched teeth. Todd gladly passed him the shaker. Nobody noticed that some of the cheese was a little whiter than usual. He poured a healthy amount of it on the spaghetti sauce (just as Todd had hoped he would) and began eating. The gleam became brighter in Todd's eyes. If only Pietro had been there to see it

The Professor looked at Todd suspiciously, but he did not say anything. He could always look into the young teenager's head, but that was against his own moral. He shook his head a fraction and shrugged minutely, going back to his dinner.

Todd was in an unusually happy mood throughout the rest of dinner. When Lance pointed it out, Toad whispered what he had done into his ear. Lance looked at Evan out of the corner of his eye, and had to muffle a few sniggers that had escaped him.

"Professor, may I be excused? I got a date," Evan said, pushing his chair back away from the table. The Professor nodded, dismissing him.

Lance and Todd broke out in a fit of giggles again.

"What is so funny, Alvers?" Scott growled, and the Professor gave him a warning look, reminding the team leader telepathically that the Brotherhood were their guests.

"None of your business, Summers, doesn't involve you," Todd spat, but he remembered why he had been laughing in the first place and dissolved in giggles again.

"Why you-" Scott started angrily, but the Professor interrupted him.

"Scott, just leave it," he said, giving him a warning look.

Scott stared moodily at his plate, definitely not in a good mood.

**_Meanwhile, a half an hour later at the movies..._**

Pietro smirked when he saw Evan enter with a blonde-haired hazel-eyed girl with tan skin. She was a looker, but she didn't have any chance against _his _date.

He put an arm around Cameron's shoulders, steering her towards the ticket booth. She was tall, only an inch or two shorter than he was, and her thick jet-black hair fell to the small of her back. Her eyes were a light blue-gray and her skin was white as porcelain. Yep, he was definitely getting some tonight. Again.

Cameron looked behind them and spotted Evan. She grunted and rolled her eyes, making a face at Pietro. "Great, it's one of Grey's friends."

Pietro made an effort to look back. Evan and his date were now buying their ticketsâ€to the same movie they were going to. "Ah, don't worry about that loser. Me and Daniels...been enemies since we were-since I was fifteen. He was thirteen. Big ass, jerk if you ask me."

She gave him a cool smile, and he tightened his arm around her fractionally. Together they entered the theater.

They sat down in their seats, and Pietro was delighted when Evan sat down in the row in front of him, only a few seats down. Oh, was he going to have fun

The movie started playing. And amazingly enough, it started out with a very explicit sex scene. Evan was fidgeting, an uncomfortable look on his face.

"Sorry, Tiff, I need to go to the washroom," he whispered and frantically walked down the row, and out of the theater to go to the bathroom. Pietro fought down a laugh. Instead, he continued watching the movie.

Pietro was actually interested in this movie. Surprisingly enough, he made no move to stick his tongue down Cameron's throat, because he was so engrossed in the movie. All he did was move his hand down a little closer to her chest. Evan sat back down in his seat, only to go out again fifteen minutes later.

Pietro cracked a smile and went back to watching the movie.

An hour passed, and Evan had to go to the washroom again. He was apologizing profusely to his date, and she had an offended look on her face. This time, a chuckle did come from Pietro, but he quickly muffled it because it would have been very inappropriate to laugh during _this _movie.

The two brothers in the movie started taking down posters of Hitler in their room. Finally, the large, red banner of the swastika went down with all their other pro-Nazi signs. Pietro had to admit it was sort of touching. Well, he'd never admit it out loud, anyways, but secretly.

Evan came back, sat down. Pietro could tell that there was tenseness between Evan and his date, and boy was he _glad_. That was what he was trying to accomplish after all, besides embarrassing the hell out of him. Ten minutes passed and Evan had to go _again._

"I wish he'd just sit and hold it!" Cameron hissed. Pietro nodded enthusiastically, but inside he was doing a victory dance.

The very sad ending to the movie finally came. Pietro had to choke back tears. Dammit, he was a _guy! _Guys don't cry at movies! But why did the ending have to be so damn sad?

"Oh, that was an awful ending!" Cameron said, clutching to him, tears running down her smooth, white cheeks. Pietro nodded, rubbing circles on her back. Evan was standing outside the theater with his pissed off looking date. He spotted Pietro, who gave him a mock salute and a smirk.

"Enjoyed the movie, Daniels?" he catcalled, and Pietro saw with satisfaction that Evan's dark cheeks reddened. He turned to face where he was going when he bumped into an elderly man.

"Watch where you're going, geezer," Pietro snapped, not paying attention when the man's black eyes narrowed, a faint trace of a smirk appearing on his lips.

He dropped Cameron off at her house, and then headed back to the mansion. He was likely never going to talk to that woman again.

Ah well, it had been worth it.

* * *

Here's the next chapter! Obviously. Well, I hope it's better than my last one (shudders). It's a lot more playful. But the next chapter should be darker...I think. Anyways, see if you can guess the movie!

Thanks to all who reviewed!

Like it? Hate it? Either way, review!


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